Even Dirtier
by Racey
Summary: Ichigo has a hard time dealing with recent events. Sequel to Dirty. AU, yaoi, swearing, graphic drug use, violence, OOCness. Awesome cover art done by AKFid over at deviantArt!
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Welcome to the quite disturbing second installment of the Dirty trilogy. Enjoy the ride; it's gonna be a bumpy one.**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

His emotions had fluctuated from one end of the spectrum, all the way to the other, all in a matter of a few hours. Normally, the process would have taken days, weeks. Hell, months, even. No, not this time. It was entirely worse than when he'd thought his blue-haired lover had deserted him yet again. This time the pain was all-consuming, swallowing him up like whales did krill. Mind-numbing at some points, stabbing and stinging at others: the crushing agony made him feel raw and exposed. He didn't think his heart would ever recover from the recent turn of events. What had started out as an already emotional morning had turned out to be the absolute worst day of his life.

Ichigo sat on the couch in the living room of his apartment, struggling to breathe, mind turning itself over and over, and body numb. He couldn't erase the morning's images from his brain for the life of him, and it was quickly driving him insane. He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, but the actions only threw the scene of Grimmjow being riddled with bullets before them. He didn't realize he'd made a noise until a hand on his back made his eyes fly open. He stared distantly at the opposite wall, trying to clear the fog from around him.

"King," Shiro's worried voice came from beside him on the couch. "When _you_ hurt, _I_ hurt."

He didn't comprehend it; he was too far-gone to let what his twin had just told him sink in. His eyes stung as his breathing hitched again. His hands turned into fists and he pressed them against his shut lids. Why couldn't he stop crying? Why couldn't he man up? People died everyday, that much had been made more than clear.

"P-people die all the time," he croaked, voice unrecognizable. "It's true."

"King..." his brother's voice trailed off.

"They die and then leave you behind to work out your emotions alone. They leave you with ghosts. Th-they leave you with questions, confusion, _pain_," Ichigo whispered, lowering his fists. "But worst of all, they leave you with _love_. They leave you with so much love, once they're gone, you have no idea where to put it, or what to do with it." He bared his teeth and snarled, "What am I supposed to _do_ with all this shit now?"

Shiro remained silent, eyes wide as he stared. He glanced over at his blond boyfriend seated on the other side of the couch a few times before returning his full attention to Ichigo, who had silent tears streaming down the sides of his face.

"He...he was supposed to come _back_. He told me he would take care of things and then we'd be together for real. He wasn't supposed to _die_. God, that _asshole_!" Ichigo snapped, surging to his feet, hands clenched into fists. "How could he _do_ this to me? And you wanna know the _really fucked up_ part?" he asked no one in particular. He was in the middle of a full-blown rant; it didn't matter whether his audience listened or not. He needed to get a few things off his chest. "He'd _known_! The fucker _knew_ something was going to happen, and he didn't even have the decency to _tell_ me! _He'd known_," he ended in an insistent whisper, heart aching unmercifully.

Shiro frowned, apparently confused. "Why ya say that?"

Ichigo inhaled slowly, the breath resembling a shuddering hiccup. "He was acting so _weird_ at the funeral. I thought it was just because he didn't like them or something. Maybe because that kid had died and he felt bad. I didn't know. But now that I look at it from a distance, it had to be because he knew those assholes were going to corner him there. He didn't even try to run from it, either. Bastard."

Shinji's deep growl came from the couch like an ominous roll of thunder. "He wasn't a coward, that's why he ain't run. Only pussies run."

Ichigo whirled in the man's direction, finger aimed at his chest. "_Screw that!_ If you _love_ someone, wouldn't they come first?"

"It ain't that easy."

"_Arrgh!_ That's the same bullshit _he_ fed me when he told me he had to leave me alone! I'm fed up with the excuses! If he'd stayed with me, none of this would've happened!"

Shinji eased to his feet, black vest unbuttoned and hanging casually around his lithe frame. "Ya think so?"

The orange-haired man was oblivious to the dangerous tone in the other man's voice as he continued to yell. "I _know_ so! Fuck, if he didn't want me, he didn't have to lie to me and make me think he loved me!"

"Ya know how _stupid_ ya sound right now?"

"What?"

"If he ain't love ya, yer ass woulda been dead that night he saw ya with Ginjou. Grimm don' _miss_. If he ain't love ya, he woulda let yer ass die on those stairs along wit' him! If he ain't _love_ ya, he wouldna never came back ta ya in the first fuckin' place, dumbass!" the blond gangster shouted, raising the already stifling tension in the room.

Ichigo stared holes into Shinji as he tried to convince himself otherwise. If he didn't, he would be faced with the fact that the only man he'd really loved had died. He would be forced to endure the pain of knowing he'd been loved in return, but unable to really make that love flourish. He pressed his lips together, more tears filling his eyes and hanging from his wet lashes. He couldn't deal with it right now. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't...

Devastation made him bend at the waist and clutch his stomach, gasping for air. In an instant, Shiro was at his side, hand on his back as he tried to keep him from sliding to the floor. It was too much. After everything he and Grimmjow had gone through, it wasn't fair that they end like this. It wasn't fair that he had to watch the one person he intimately cared for gunned down like a rabid animal.

"Please," he groaned, torment like he'd never felt before twisting his insides into a knot. "It hurts. Oh, God, Shiro, it hurts," he sobbed.

"Fuck," his twin cursed softly. "C'mon, King. Ya need ta lie down."

His body had become useless. All he could do was cry brokenly against his brother's shoulder. He would never see Grimmjow again. He'd never hear the blue-haired man's deep voice that could go from dangerous to tender within seconds. He'd never get to kiss him again, touch him, _nothing_. His gut churned, making him gag. Shiro rushed him towards the bathroom, where he stumbled to the toilet and tried to force away the discomfort writhing through his entire system. He couldn't stand to be inside his own skin at the moment, wishing with all he had that he could just make the bone-deep ache disappear.

XOXOXO

Shiro stood over King's bed, watching him sleep fitfully. He wished there was something he could do for his twin. _What do you do when someone's loved one dies, though?_ he thought. There was no easy answer, no quick solution. King would have to thug it out and survive the worst hurt he'd experienced to date. It would be hellish, at times even downright impossible, but he would have to do it, or else Shiro feared for the man's sanity. As much as he loved his brother, he would hate to see the guy going down his previous road of depression and recklessness.

King tossed and moaned before settling down. Shiro sighed helplessly. He really hated being unable to do anything for his own brother. The whole thing had happened so quickly too. One minute, they'd been preparing to leave the church, and the next minute, Grimmjow had been laying in his own blood as they'd fled the scene. Christ, the images _still_ gave him chills. He'd never seen someone shot before. Not right in front of him, at least. TV made it look so glorified, but it was nothing like that in real life. It was disturbing, scary as hell and so..._evident_. So _physical_.

"He sleep?"

He turned to face the voice coming from the doorway with a sad nod. "Yeah. He kinda passed out after all that cryin' and throwin' up. Fuck, Shin, I feel so _bad_ for him," he paused and looked the blond in the eye. "You too. Grimmjow was your best friend."

Shinji grunted and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he studied the floor. Shiro knew the man was hurting and refusing to show it, so he didn't press the issue. However, there was something that had been bothering him since they'd arrived back at the apartment.

"D-did ya send someone over there ta see if he was OK, though? He might not even be dead," he said quietly.

"I did that in the car," Shinji said with a dejected sigh as he turned his back and headed to the living room. Shiro followed him, waiting for the blond to elaborate. Surely, there had to be more to it than that. "I sent Ishida, Szayel, Nnoitra and...ah, you don't know him, but he's another dude from the fam. I sent them to check things out." He took a seat on the arm of the couch and ran a hand through his bang. After another deep sigh, he shook his head and the albino could have sworn he'd seen tears. "They ain't find his body. Jus' a lotta blood and bullet shells. Nobody was there when they got there. They looked in the park ta see what they could find, but there was nothin'."

Shiro swallowed and exhaled slowly. Well, that left a lot more questions than he'd originally started with.

"So...what's that mean? If they ain't find a body, he could still be alive."

"Babe," Shinji started softly. "Grimm's dead. Ishida told me that there was a trail of blood leading from the stairs, like those assholes dragged him somewhere or somethin'."

Silence filled the room. All Shiro could do was sit and stare down at his hands as his last hope for his brother was snuffed out like a candle flame. A shrill trilling interrupted the quiet, making him glance at his boyfriend, confused. The blond Crip scowled as well, but dug in his back pocket before withdrawing his cell. He glared at the screen for a second, then answered.

"Yo." There was some talking on the other end before Shinji's jaw tightened. "Where?" Shiro's frown deepened as he strained to hear something, _anything_, but he couldn't. "I'm comin'," Shinji snapped as he ended the connection. He gave the pale-haired man a pointed stare as he pocketed the phone and rose from his perch. "I'll be back. I gotta run an' do somethin'."

Shiro was on his feet instantly. "Who was on the phone?" he asked before remembering that Shinji was a gang member, and that some things just couldn't be discussed. The look the blond gave him only cemented that fact.

"Ya know I can't tell-"

"I _DO_ KNOW! AN' THA'S THE FUCKIN' PROBLEM! GOD, SHIN! WHAT, IT AIN'T ENOUGH WATCHIN' YER BEST FRIEND DIE? NOW YA GOTTA GO DO THE SAME?"

It came out of nowhere. He'd gone from curious, to concerned, to scared, to downright pissed in a matter of mere seconds. Now, rage at his gang-banging boyfriend seemed to seep from his pores as he glared at the man and tried not to completely lose his composure. Shinji's blond brows had disappeared beneath his bang as he stared at Shiro in shock. Then the astonishment subsided and made room for anger.

"Ya knew what I was when ya first started fuckin' me. I can't change that. 'Specially not now."

"Can't...er won't?"

"I _can't_, Shirosaki. Don' fuckin' do this right now."

"Well, when the fuck am I _s'posed_ ta do it? It ain't like yer givin' me a specific time! An' scuze the shit outta me fer carin' whether yer ass lives er dies!"

It was obvious Shinji didn't have a comeback because he just glared and kept his mouth shut, lips pressed into a thin line. After what felt like an eternity, he finally shook his head and scoffed.

"Shiro, I hate ta break it ta ya and be the only voice of reason right now, but somebody's gotta do it. This life I live, the life Grimm lived: it ain't all peaches and cream. Shit ain't _sweet_. This ain't no fuckin' fairy tale, babe. Wake _up_! I can't just run off with you and live happily ever after. My boy died right in front of me. You think I ain't about to ride for mine? That I ain't gon' kill every last one a'them motherfuckers that dared put a hole in Grimm?"

Shiro stood transfixed as he watched Shinji get more and more heated, more and more worked up. Where the hell was all of this coming from? He'd never even known that the blond felt that way. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but he refused to blink and let them fall.

"An' le's jus' say after everything calms down, I do wanna leave wit' you. Numba one, I'd hafta be jumped outta the fam and be labeled a deserter. Numba two, I'd pretty much hafta leave the country, 'cuz everywhere I'd go after that, I'd either be killed or beaten the fuck up. Now, ya see what I mean when I say everything _ain't_ everything?"

He wanted to understand, he really did, but it was so hard when it was one's heart on the line. He made the mistake of looking down at the floor, making the tears that had been hanging onto his lashes slide down his cheeks. He sucked his teeth, agitated with his moment of weakness. This wasn't him. He chanced a glance at his blond boyfriend and swallowed a swift intake of air. Who the hell was he kidding? He was in the same boat as King now, only his heartache was still alive and kicking ferociously.

"Why you wait til now ta do this, Shinji?" he asked.

"Do what? Get revenge for my best friend?"

"No. Leave. I know tha's wha's comin' next after a speech like that."

There was a small space of silence where he didn't know what was going on with the blond. Then, Shinji appeared right in front of him, footsteps so quiet, you wouldn't have heard them with a stethoscope. His hand came up and clutched the back of Shiro's neck, making the albino gasp in surprise. Shiro almost backed into the TV, but stood firm at the last second. Shockingly, all Shinji did was tighten the grip on his neck and put them eye-to-eye.

"When I tell you shit, I expect you not ta take it lightly," the man growled.

"Wha-"

Shiro was cut off by a warm pair of lips and a strong, wiry arm going around his waist. The hand on his neck went Incredible Hulk and squeezed until the discomfort became nearly unbearable. He chose to ignore it in favor of the slick tongue entering his mouth. Why was Shinji kissing him if he only intended to leave? Why would he do that to him?

The blond gangster pulled back from the kiss, face still incredibly serious. "Didn't I tell you I protect wha's mine?" Shiro nodded, stunned and helpless. "And didn't I tell you I love you?" Again he nodded. "Why the fuck you doubtin' me, then? I never said I was leavin' you. I jus' got some shit ta take care of. I ain't lettin' us turn into a tragedy, ya heard?"

He chuckled, relief flooding him. He wanted to dance for joy, but at the same time couldn't bring himself to be _too_ happy. "What about King?"

"What about him?"

"Well, I don' know. I guess...maybe I thought..."

It was Shinji's turn to chuckle as he ran a thumb down the side of Shiro's face. "Am I my brother's keeper?" he asked quietly.

The pale-haired man's eyes glittered solemnly as he answered. "Yes, I am."

XOXOXO

As she entered the modest apartment she shared with her longtime girlfriend, she grinned and inhaled deeply.

"Something smells good, babe!" she called from the living room, where she dropped a backpack filled with cash onto the plush carpet.

She glanced around, absently noting the stereo pumping the reggae tune of Sizzla's "Dry Cry" from the surround sound speakers. A still smoldering blunt rested in a crystal ashtray on the glass coffee table and a goblet of white wine was set beside that. She grinned again, the smell of jerk chicken leading her by the nose to the kitchen. From the doorway, she spied her girlfriend stirring something in a large silver pot. Spices overwhelmed her senses and made her mouth water as she watched clear green eyes lock onto her from across the room. Even though she and Halibel had been together for eight years now, the blonde woman's piercing eyes could still hold her captive.

"Hey," Nel greeted. "Whatchu cookin'?"

"Hmm, jerk chicken, black beans and rice, cabbage and fried dumplings."

Nel smirked. She would always have a thing for Halibel's island accent. Most people took one look at the fierce blonde and refused to try getting past her tough exterior, but after six high school classes with the girl, Nel had been determined to know more about her. Not to mention gauge whether she liked girls or not because there was no denying the smoking hot looks Halibel possessed. With silky blonde hair, gemstone green eyes and a body full of curves and firmness in all the right places: the woman was flawless. Even her Trinidadian temper did nothing to hurt her image; in fact, if anything, it enhanced it.

"Did you get the cash?" Halibel asked, replacing the lid to the huge pot.

Nel nodded and hopped onto the kitchen counter. "Yup. A hundred stacks. I'll go to the safe in a few hours."

"OK," the blonde said as she moved towards the fridge and leaned against it. She was wearing the hell out of the white racer-back tank and black sweats hugging her body. After Nel's eyes were done traveling the length of the woman's voluptuous body, their gazes locked, green twinkling mischievously. "Like what you see?"

Nel nodded and smirked. "Of course I do."

Only a handful of people knew that she wasn't the ditz she presented to the public. That there was a method to her madness. Most would underestimate her if they thought she was an airhead, and in her line of work, it gave her an advantage.

"Oh, we got a call today," Halibel stated, interrupting her thoughts.

"Who was it?"

Instead of answering, the blonde went to the cordless phone on the kitchen counter and handed it to her. "She told me to call back when you got here."

"She?"

"Nel, just call."

Nel sucked her teeth and grabbed the phone. She hated surprises and from the look Halibel called herself concealing, the phone call had most certainly been just that. Nel pulled up the caller ID log and stared at the most recent number, mouth slowly falling open. She turned to face her girlfriend, eyes wide.

"Is this for real? She hasn't called since we went our separate ways. I mean, the most we do is see each other in the streets in passing, or hanging out for a minute," she mumbled more to herself than Halibel. She connected the call and listened to the line ringing. It rang three times before a husky alto greeted her.

"Long time, old friend."

"Yeah, I could say the same. Is this business or pleasure?" Nel asked hesitantly.

"I don't do house calls for pleasure. Not professional. This, my friend, is most definitely business."

"Mm. What'd you have in mind?"

Nel glanced over at Halibel, who had an elegant blonde brow arched. Taking the hint, she quickly put the call on speaker.

"I guess you could actually say this is a mixture of business and a personal matter. A friend of ours has some really bad people messin' wit' him, and word on the street has it that some very big people have been killed in the past few days. It's a mess out there. I'm thinking of reviving the clean up crew."

The green-haired woman paused and chewed her bottom lip. The clean up crew had been a group of four females, whose reputation had earned them the collective nickname "Murder Mamis." Basically what they did was kill for hire. The money had to be right and the job had to be worth doing. Normally, they never mixed business with personal, but there had been one incident that had been the reason for their split. The woman on the other end of the phone had had to lay low with her partner for a while, but apparently, now she felt the need to dust off her holster and jump back into the saddle.

"You sure?" Nel asked carefully.

"Pretty sure. Meet me and Baby Girl at the Sand and Sea Diner tomorrow morning. Ten AM. I'll explain the details then. And don't be late, Nel. I know how you and Hal like to play in the mornings," the woman said with a chuckle.

"Whatever. As if you and Yoruichi are any better. We'll be there."

"Cool."

The connection was ended, leaving Nel excited and antsy. Even though she and Halibel had kept on in that line of work, having the old team together again would be one for the record books. Those that knew about them had speculated that they would never reform after that last incident, and truthfully, she'd begun to feel the same way. Things had been going smoothly anyway, but she would never turn down an opportunity to make even more money. She turned to Halibel as Tony Matterhorn's "Dutty Wine" shook the walls and rocked the floor.

She two-stepped her way over to her girlfriend and after placing a long kiss on her full lips, she sang to herself, "Coulda one a'dem, coulda two a'dem."

XOXOXO

The strip club pulsated with colorful lights, bass bleeding from the speakers and women in various forms of scandalous undress sliding down silver poles. "Round of Applause" by Waka Flocka Flame and Drake had those same women shaking their asses in front of groups of men throwing bills and degrading names at them. Tousen watched as they soaked up the attention like new sponges, grin cutting his face in half. He carried a short glass filled with Remy Martin and cranberry juice in his left hand, and a half-smoked blunt in the other. The club was in Blood territory, so he could relax and party with no worries of being threatened. He dipped through groups of men milling about, ogling the strippers, sometimes swatting their asses as they danced by. He called those men thirsty. Didn't they know these females only wanted their money, not their time? Sure, some were down to fuck for an extra buck, but Tousen could guarantee none of the hoes wanted to fall in love.

He got to the VIP section and was noisily greeted by a team of his Blood brothers, among them his right hand man, Yammy. Yammy was a bit slow sometimes and definitely had an attitude problem, but he served his purpose in the long run. Tousen took a seat on the round, plush leather couch and sipped his drink from a red straw.

"Yo, buzzin'! I can't believe you offed G! Damn, that's some ill shit!"

He smirked and took a long pull from his blunt before responding. "Dude wasn't shit."

"That ain't true, but the fact you got him proves that you better than him," the same youngster that had spoken earlier continued. "So how many times you pop him?"

Tousen tilted his head to the side in an exaggerated imitation of hard thinking. Truth was, he knew exactly how many times G had been shot. He'd watched as six bullets made impact with the blue-haired man. There was _no way_ he could have survived that.

He laughed and waved a hand dismissively. "'Bout six times, I think. I ain't really keep track."

"Whaaaat? Damn, man. That boy dead."

"Hell yeah," he grunted as he lifted his glass for another sip from his drink.

G was _indeed_ dead. Tousen had made sure of that. The man hadn't moved from the stairs of that church after he'd crumbled, so knowing his job had been done, he'd left the Crip to die there alone. Next, Aizen wanted Slim's head on a platter. Not that the blond would be an issue at all, but still. It was a job, after all. After the news of G's death had spread, his reputation had soared and Aizen had even given him that promised promotion. Life was starting to look up now.

A dark-haired stripper with skin the color of butterscotch candy and hazel eyes sauntered over to him. She wore a neon yellow g-string and matching bikini top, body oil covering her curvy figure and making him lick his lips. He'd never seen this one before. Maybe he could convince her to meet him upstairs for a private session. She smiled at him, revealing a set of perfect teeth and cute dimples. She was gorgeous.

"What's your name?" she asked, boldly straddling his waist and causing him to lift his glass and blunt out of the way.

Still, he grinned in return. She smelled like sultry flowers, looked even better, and her voice was cute. "Call me T," he said.

Her charming smile spread as she started winding her hips in his lap. "T, huh? Like the drink?"

"Haha, that's cute. Wha's ya name?"

"Mmm," she hummed as she turned her back to his chest and pressed her ass to his groin. "Chardonnay."

_Figures_, he thought. However, Chardonnay happened to look her name, so he let it slide. He let her dance some more, her extremely round and soft bottom giving him a mean erection. He killed his drink, set the glass down beside him, then leaned forward.

"You wanna come wit' me upstairs, Chardonnay?"

She glanced over her shoulder, dimple winking at him and hazel eyes sparkling. "I thought you'd never ask," she cooed.

Tousen nodded and waited for her to vacate his lap before leading her towards the stairs in the back of the club. He nodded at the owner, who stood behind the bar supervising things. The brunet nodded back, but immediately after, his eyes darted around the club, keeping a look out for any incident that would cause him and his place trouble.

The dark-haired Blood allowed Chardonnay to climb the stairs in front of him, just so he could watch her ass move and her hips sway. She glanced back at him wearing an impish grin a few times before they reached the upper level. Her heels were about five inches high and looked mighty dangerous, but would look _wonderful_ thrown over his shoulders while he fucked her. He grinned.

Today was a good day.

**Next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

She waited for the dark-haired Blood to leave the room before heading to the adjoining bathroom. She shut and locked the door behind herself, then stood in front of the large mirror over-looking the sink. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with her reflection. She felt like vomiting all over the place after the experience she'd just had with Kaname Tousen. Or as he'd told her, T. She scoffed and rubbed her stomach, willing it to settle down. She still couldn't rid her mouth of the taste of weed, liquor and skin. She was waiting for the crippling sense of shame she expected to feel after fucking a man like Tousen, but it didn't come. Instead, she just thought about how it was all a means to an end. A very bad end, if she had anything to do with it. Her employer _and_ her girlfriend wanted the guy dead, but for now, she was only supposed to keep an eye on him. Get as close as possible to him, learn his habits, get him comfortable... then strike.

The noise of her cell phone ringing from the other room sent her flying through the door after fumbling with the lock. She grabbed it from underneath the couch cushion and lifted it to her ear.

"Sir?" she greeted.

A light tenor traveled over the line and made her shudder. The man's voice was never ominous, but that's what made it creepy.

"Are ya ready?"

She nodded before realizing that he wouldn't be able to see the motion. "I'm ready."

"I'm out back. He's already gone, so ya don't need ta worry 'bout him spottin' ya."

"OK. I-is-" but before she could even finish her question, the line went dead.

She lowered the phone, disappointed. It'd been almost a month since she'd last seen her girlfriend and she'd figured since she was working for the woman's brother, she would be able to see her. It was unimaginably unfair. Still, she didn't have time to sit and mope about it; her boss was waiting in the lot for her. She glanced around the dim room, checking to make sure nothing important was lying around before she walked to the door and left. She descended the stairs, hazel eyes darting around the darkened club. Some of the girls had tried to get to know her, maybe dig up some dirt about her, but she'd kept herself at a distance for that exact reason. She wanted to keep a low profile so she would be more appealing to Tousen. Knowing that gang members preferred a girl that wasn't into gossip and running her mouth, she maintained a humble personality and barely mingled with the other girls. As a result, they rolled their eyes and talked shit about her behind her back, calling her stuck-up and high maintenance. She didn't give a shit about any of it; as long as she did her job, her life was made easier.

She forced her way through the crowd, ignoring the slaps and gropes to her ass, not to mention the many offered propositions, until she made it to the cramped dressing room. Perfume – cheap and authentic – invaded her senses, making her nose wrinkle and upper lip curl back. Woman of all shapes, sizes and colors passed in and out of the room, bodies sometimes clad in scanty clothing, sometimes not. She hurriedly changed clothes, grabbed her jacket and left through the back exit. The heavy, metal door swung open with a noisy creak as she searched the lot for the all black Benz her employer preferred to drive. She spotted it in the far left corner of the lot and started towards it. Her feet faltered, however, when she noticed _two_ tall and thin figures rather than just the one. As she got closer, her heart rate picked up dramatically, throat closing up and eyes tearing. Two heads of gleaming silver hair glinted under the lot's lights, one's slightly longer than the other's, but both lifting gently with the breeze. Both wore long black trench coats that billowed in the wind as well; both sporting heavy duty boots with shining silver buckles.

She wanted to run, but refrained only because she knew Genevieve wouldn't approve. She casually sauntered over to the pair leaning against the car, first approaching her employer. She peered into the slender man's face and nodded. He gave her his customary wide, toothless grin, ice blue eyes slitted shut. His silver fringe fluttered across his brow as he removed a hand from his pocket. She watched as he freed his other hand and lit up a cigarette. He inhaled slowly before exhaling in the same fashion. She, on the other hand, felt like shifting her stance several times. She hated when her employer did that. He always made her nervous with his carefree attitude and mysterious behavior. She knew better than to say anything, though.

"Did ya learn anything new?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'm thinking he'll warm up after a few more times of being with him."

The silver-haired man nodded and pulled on the cigarette again. It didn't even seem like he was looking at her, but she knew better than that too. Her employer was more aware than anyone else she knew – aside from Genevieve, of course. The man exhaled again and opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted.

"Jesus Christ, Gin. Stop bein' so fuckin' mysterious," her employer's female companion snapped from the other side of the car.

"Mah, mah, Gen. I ain't bein' mysterious. Jus' thinkin'."

"Whatever! Hey, Crystal! Come here and talk ta me. Gin told me ya wanted ta see me."

Genevieve was so outspoken, so blunt, but she had a personality just like her twin brother's around people she didn't know or didn't trust. She had shoulder-length silver hair, a thin, heart-shaped face, the same wide, toothless grin as her brother, and those same slitted, ice-blue eyes. She was just as slender, but also just as strong.

She glanced one last time at her employer, Gin Ichimaru, then turned towards Genevieve Ichimaru, the woman she loved. As she rounded the car and stepped into the silver-haired woman's strong embrace, she knew that no matter what the two asked of her, she would always do it. As long as she could stay by Genevieve's side.

XOXOXO

Gin slid behind the wheel of the black luxury vehicle and raised the volume of the radio. After meeting with The Man in a few minutes, he had a date with a hot little piece he'd met across town. But...business first. He glanced to his right and sighed, growing impatient as he waited for his sister. Genevieve had been seeing the girl, Crystal, for about five years now. It was an on-again, off-again kind of thing, but under all the tension and bickering and disagreements, they loved each other. He'd warned his sister not to get too attached, but had she listened? No, of course not. Genevieve was too stubborn for her own good, but he couldn't really blame her since he was the same way. There had been plenty of times he'd done things he really shouldn't have. Besides, who was he to talk? As long as his sister was happy and safe, he couldn't care less if she picked her nose and ate what came out.

He just wished she would hurry the hell up.

At this rate, they would be late and The Man would be pissed, which was an unsavory situation at best. He toyed with the volume control again before flipping through the stations. His knee threatened to start bouncing up and down, so he leaned over the vacant passenger seat after powering down the window.

"Ya do realize we got an appointment, right?" he asked.

The hungry kissing noises he'd interrupted ceased and Genevieve dipped her head to glare at him. "I'm comin'," she returned, mouth gathered into a tiny ball.

"I'm jus' sayin'," he crooned. "I got no problem tellin' the boss it was you that slowed us up."

Genevieve rolled her eyes and went back to Crystal, but she'd taken heed to the message because there was no more kissing and her tone was a bit more final. Gin heard her tell the brown-skinned girl that she would see her later before his sister slid into the vehicle, much like an eel through seaweed.

"Happy, now?" she griped as she buckled her seat belt.

"Yup."

"Pissy bastard."

"Nothin' wrong wit' my bladder," he calmly responded, knowing his lazy retort would stir Genevieve up like an overturned hornet's nest.

"Jus' shut up and drive, asshole."

**XxxxX**

He pulled to a stop in a large, circular drive, where a gurgling fountain with a marble statue of the Virgin Mary decorating the center of it, commanded attention. The house was extravagantly huge and the picture of Cuba itself. Five, wide stone stairs led to the columned entrance, where two, large, wooden doors stood. One was cracked open, a tall and equally broad young man standing before it. He wore beige linen pants and a red Hawaiian shirt, bright yellow flowers blooming all over it in offensive beauty. Gin shook his head, but kept his comments to himself. It wouldn't do to anger the son of The Man.

"Yo, Sado. How goes it?" he asked instead, once he made it to the top of the stairs.

Sado inclined his head, gave a brief glimpse to Genevieve, then spoke, incredibly deep voice feeling like an earthquake. "I'm fine."

"Good, good."

He followed Sado inside, no longer intimidated by the high ceiling, off-white marble floors and lavishly winding staircase. They passed through the foyer and made a right into the kitchen, where the enticing scent of food meandered into his nose, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet. A dark-haired woman with dark-blue eyes bustled around the colossal kitchen. Her hair was worn in a strange style, wrapped around her slim neck and forming a thick braid down her chest. No matter how odd she seemed to be, Gin knew firsthand that she was an excellent cook, an even better care-taker and the sweetest woman on the planet. Didn't mean she didn't have her moments, though. She could be as scrappy as an alley cat when she felt the need called for it. He would never forget the time she'd smacked his hand and proceeded to cuss him out in flawless Spanish. He'd learned his lesson and never picked over a freshly made dish of food of hers again.

"Hola, Retsu," he greeted.

She stopped in her hurried tracks and turned to him with a warm grin. "Ah! Hola, Gin. Como esta?"

"No me gusta."

Retsu arched a brow before giggling quietly. Even Sado cracked a rare smirk. Confused, he turned to his sister, just in time to catch her palm to the back of his head.

"Stupid! Ya jus' said 'I don't like.' Seriously, Gin, yer embarrassin'," she snapped, bridge of her nose turning pink. "Sorry, Retsu. Gin's a little bit slow today."

"No, no problem, Miss Genevieve," Retsu replied, waving her hand around and laughter still evident in her soothing voice. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Gin frowned. Her accent sometimes caught him off guard, so instead of making a further fool of himself, he allowed Genevieve to take the floor.

"I don't know, Retsu. It all depends on the man, ya know?"

"Si, si," she agreed gravely.

Gin, on the other hand, had become intensely interested in what the older woman held in her hands. Frowning, he cocked his head to the side. "Ah, Retsu. I know I ain't the most knowledgeable guy when it comes to Cuban cuisine and all, but...I didn't think a bowl of water and hand towel constituted a food dish," he commented dryly.

Retsu, hardly ever flustered, busied her hands after jerking away from the dish he'd indicated. Red flags sprang up all over the place at that. Gin arched a brow as he watched the dark-haired woman look anywhere but at him.

"No, no. This isn't food," she started nervously. "This is for, er...a guest."

He opened his mouth to question her further, but got nowhere as Sado chose that moment to step in.

"My father's waiting."

His voice was deep and final. Gin briefly pursed his lips as he exchanged looks with his sister. Genevieve wore a similar expression, but her ice-blue eyes spoke with resounding clarity. She knew, just like he did, that there was much more to the story. However, it seemed like they weren't going to be clued into this particular aspect of the tale. Knowing when to pick and choose his battles, Gin nodded and swept an arm forward.

"After you, big guy."

Sado pinned him with a calculating once-over before turning and heading towards the glass double doors leading to an outdoor veranda. Mini-palm trees and potted plants decorated the space around fifteen feet from a lavish, rectangular pool. A glass patio table stood prominently near a large gas grill. Sado made his way over to said table, where an older man the same shade of caramel sat, puffing casually on a cigar. He had a thick, intimidating mustache, dark, wavy hair swept back off of his forehead and slicked down, temples slightly graying. He wore a beige linen button-up shirt and matching linen pants. Thong sandals on his feet and greenish-gray eyes locked onto them, Javier Yasutora, AKA The Man, studied them with a patient and all-knowing gaze.

"Gin, Genevieve, welcome back," he greeted, voice deeper and rougher than his son's.

Gin nodded his head, respect for the older man overshadowing his previous suspicion and curiosity. There were obviously bigger fish to fry, if the look on the man's face was any indication. The Man extended his hand and indicated the seats surrounding the table.

"Take a load off," he continued.

They did as told and made themselves as comfortable as possible before the face of such power and authority. It was no secret that Javier Yasutora had his hands in most of the cocaine and heroin dealings across several states, but it was also common knowledge that the man was more dangerous than Jack the Ripper himself. He was sharp as a tack, but was also a great judge of character, something Gin greatly admired. He often told himself that he could see through most people, but he wasn't nearly as astute at it as The Man was. He could learn a few things from the guy.

"We did whatcha asked, Sir," he said.

Better to get it out of the way than let it hang in the air between them.

The Man nodded and set his cigar in the crystal ashtray in front of him. He picked up a short glass filled with a pale green liquid and after drinking almost the entire contents, set the glass down and sat back with thick arms folded.

"It will take longer than one night, I'm sure," he stated, Cuban accent subtle, but there.

It wasn't much of a question. Gin nodded without looking in his sister's direction. He had hired Crystal, even though he knew she was involved with Genevieve, simply because he knew she could get the job done. She'd done much more for them in this line of work and although he knew it had to be stressful on the girl, she took everything in stride. He supposed he had his sister to thank for that one. He was sure Crystal wouldn't be half as cooperative if Genevieve wasn't somehow in the equation.

"That's what our girl told us, but things look promisin'," he answered his employer.

"Is that so? That is good news, indeed."

"Sir, I hate to pry," Genevieve put forth, voice uncertain. "But maybe...I mean...I'd like to know what ya had in mind fer us. We're more than willin' ta do what ya say, but..."

The Man considered her with an impassive face. Gin almost cringed. He didn't know what to expect and as much as he loved his sister, if The Man decided to end her life for insubordination, then there was really nothing he could do about it. He could try to avenge her at a later date, but The Man had too many connections; he was too fucking smart and always twenty steps ahead of the game. Fortunately, The Man merely grinned and picked up his cigar again.

"I expected that."

Gin felt his brow threaten to crease into a confused scowl. If he'd expected it, why hadn't he felt the need to clue them into their mission? It was one thing following orders, but going into it completely blind was a whole 'nother jar of pickles. Before he could voice his opinion on the matter, The Man went on, deep voice amused.

"I asked you guys to do this for me because you're the only ones I can fully trust. I knew you wouldn't ask questions and I took advantage of that. I'll be more courteous at this point, however. You deserve to know why I sent you on this particular job."

"True," Gin couldn't help adding.

The Man grinned in his direction while he puffed on his cigar. "So. Why are you setting a trap for a seemingly no one?"

Genevieve nodded and Gin held onto his stony disposition. That _was_ the hundred dollar question, wasn't it?

"A business partner and good friend of mine was killed not too long ago and it...displeased me...to say the least. This man you're after played a significant role in it. I need that rectified as soon as possible. As they say, the show must go on, yes?"

It made sense, but knowing who this friend and partner had been would have been even better. Yet, Gin kept his trap shut as The Man continued his story.

XOXOXO

They were buried in piles of paperwork and the fine scent of Armani cologne. It was routine by now, but his mind wasn't on the mundane job at hand. In fact, he was miles and miles away from where he needed to be. Shiro sat beside him, pale hands busy filing and cataloguing. Why he couldn't do the same hounded him and made him wince every time it crossed his mind, which was more often than not. He picked up a manila folder and stared at it, gunshots and blood filling his thoughts.

"_Because I love you!"_

Ichigo winced and hung his head, hands gripping the folder like it was his last chance at survival. God, he'd once thought he'd never be in this predicament, even though the life he led was less than admirable. The man he'd fallen in love with was no saint, that was for sure, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. Now, he was stuck, in love with a ghost, a beloved memory and it hurt like a battering ram to the sternum.

"King, you don't look too good," Shiro said.

Ichigo peered at his twin from the corner of his eye, almost afraid of what he would find. Sure enough, Shiro's odd golden irises glowed with concern and worry. Of course, they would. For the past two weeks, Ichigo had been little more than a shell, body moving on auto-pilot. He couldn't see the trees for the bushes and it was disturbing, but overwhelming. He missed the hell out of his dead boyfriend. And that was what he'd come to consider the blue-haired gangster. Grimmjow had been his boyfriend, even if the man hadn't said so himself. Love was a dangerous thing. You risked the chance of doing things that you normally wouldn't, and feeling shit that left you empty when those feelings weren't returned. No one had informed him of the emotions he would experience once those feelings were returned, but the person cared so much about was snatched away like a coveted toy. It hurt. It burned. Everything painful one could consider: that was love unfulfilled and then some.

He sighed and lowered his head to the large mahogany desk in front of him. He buried it in his arms and closed his eyes to the ever lurking darkness. "I can't fuckin' concentrate," he mumbled, voice muffled.

Shiro shifted, the only indication of such being the whispering shuffle of his clothing. "King, ya gotta snap out of it. I know it's hard, but...ya have to."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered bitterly, then instantly felt bad. Shiro was only trying to help, trying to comfort him when comfort was light years away. "Sorry, Shiro."

A brief pause preceded the albino's hushed words, voice closer than it had been the last time he'd spoken. "I get it, King. I do. At least, I think so. But that doesn't mean ya gotta give up on life. Grimmjow wouldn't want ya to."

The sound of his dead lover's name was like a blow to the head. It made him inwardly reel and outwardly snarl, upper lip curled back. He knew his brother was right, but how was he supposed to deal? Breathing was like a full-time job and sleeping had become out of the question. He missed Grimmjow so much and it had only been a couple of weeks since the man had...passed.

"Shiro, I know. I just...I just miss him, that's all. I wish things were different. I wish I could have done more to keep him from dying. Keep him from being shot down right before my eyes. You have _no_ idea what that feels like. The man you love is still alive, still loving you and still there for you. I...I don't have that anymore and even when I did, I didn't even get a chance to really enjoy it. Grimm was snatched away from me right after he told me...right after he told me he loved me."

That speech had taken the will to live right out of him again. He really didn't know what to do at this point. Grimmjow was dead and gone and Ichigo's heart was buried right along with him. It was made even worse that no one knew what had happened to the man's body.

"King."

Shiro's voice was sad and sympathetic, but there was no way Shiro could truly know how he felt. He wouldn't blame him, though. That would be cruel, especially since Shiro was only trying to make him feel better. Trying to get his head out of the dumps and put it back where it was supposed to be. Work, however, wasn't doing it. Their father had called and insisted they come into the office. The man was swamped and couldn't handle all of the paperwork. Normally, in this case, a secretary or assistant would be acquired, but since he and Shiro were old enough and knew the ropes of a law office, Isshin figured he could use them. Trust was hard to come by in a profession such as this one, so it simplified the situation exponentially. Ichigo just wasn't in the mood for it.

"I'll be alright, Shiro. Stop worryin' 'bout me so much. Makes me feel bad."

"I don't wanna make ya feel bad, King, but I hate seein' ya like this. It kills me knowin' there ain't shit I can do to fix it."

"That's life."

A deep sigh was his only response, but he knew there was a wealth of things Shiro wanted to say. The timing was all wrong, however, so the albino kept it in for now. Thankfully. Ichigo couldn't deal with much more sympathy, more pity. It chaffed and made him feel like a helpless charity case.

"Let's just get this done so we can leave," he sighed.

"Yeah," Shiro grunted before falling into the task at hand.

An hour ticked by in silence with both of their heads tucked into what they were doing. Just as Ichigo leaned back to take a breather and relax his tensed neck and back, the office door was thrown open, banging into the wall with unnecessary force. Both he and Shiro glared up at their impeccably dressed father. Isshin wore a navy, pinstriped suit, dark hair sticking up on his head and jaw scruffy with a five o'clock shadow. He had an armful of binders and more manila folders.

"Papa has more work for his beloved sons! Who's ready to-"

"You're too loud!" Ichigo snapped. "When are you gonna learn to use your inside voice? Trust me, it's rusted and needs the kinks worked out of it, but I'm sure it's still in there somewhere, old man!"

Shiro snickered into his closed fist before lowering it and studying their father. "Dontcha think we got enough on our plates already?"

"Nonsense! Aspiring lawyers never have enough on their plates!"

"Well, that's just great 'cuz we ain't aspiring lawyers," Shiro continued before dipping his head and continuing the filing.

Isshin stalked forward, broad shoulders shifting as he dropped his load onto the desk before them. "I'm not as dumb as I look, Shirosaki," he said seriously. "I know that you and Ichigo aren't even interested in college, let alone becoming lawyers. I just wonder how long you think you'll be comfortable living off of this menial work."

That was a mouthful coming from their idiotic old man, that was for sure. Ichigo stared at him like he'd sprouted legs from the top of his head and an extra set of eyes to boot. He'd never heard his father talk so seriously to them and wondered what the sudden cause for it was.

"Huhn. That was interesting," he commented offhandedly.

Isshin gave him a rare evil glance before perching his hip on the edge of his desk. "I'm serious. What do you boys plan to do with yourselves? You can't get married and raise a family this way."

Ichigo barely resisted the urge to snort and cough into his hand. Oh, if only the old man knew that they had no intentions of getting married and raising a football team. They would leave the child-bearing and marriage woes to their little sisters. Speaking of which, one was already on the path to enlarging the Kurosaki heritage.

"Speakin' a'kids," Shiro started before Ichigo could. "Wha's goin' on wit' Karin?"

Their father's face fell as he rose and crossed the room. He kept his back turned to them as he idly toyed with a glass dolphin statue on the shelf of his bookcase. "You ask that like you don't already know."

Simple statement really, but it held a monumental amount of meaning. Yes, they did indeed know that their younger sister was seventeen and four months pregnant. Yes, they knew that it irked the old man since he was so fiercely protective of his children and – even though he went about it in the strangest ways – tried to give them options and good lives. He hadn't necessarily given up on his wayward boys, but he'd held a deep portion of hope for his little girls. Yuzu was well on her way to becoming her high school's valedictorian with dreams of becoming a veterinarian, but Karin... It seemed like the dark-haired twin had been led down the path of destruction by her so-called friends. She stayed out all night, often-time coming home pissy drunk and high as a kite to boot. She didn't outright disrespect the old man, but she did disregard a lot of the rules he tried to lay down.

Ichigo and Shiro had tried to drill some sense into the girl, but with the way they lived, it had backfired more than helped. Karin hadn't said anything to Isshin, but she had made it more than clear that she didn't appreciate their hypocritical way of thinking. Point had been taken and they'd decided to leave well enough alone. They'd thought Karin would be smarter than she'd portrayed, but obviously, they'd been horrendously wrong. Now, their little sister was pregnant by a guy she hardly knew, a result of a particularly hard night of partying and excessive drug use. When Ichigo had first found out, he'd wanted to kill her. Then, he'd thought about it. What could he possibly have said to her? What could he have done to persuade her that her decisions weren't the best in the world, when the same held true for himself and his brother?

The old man didn't even know that he and Shiro preferred the male gender, let alone that they smoked weed on a daily basis. Keeping it from the dark-haired patriarch was for the best, but something had to be done about Karin. She was a girl. She couldn't keep opening her legs to any Tom, Dick or Harry just because she got high or drunk. Look at what that had brought about. She had enough issues dealing with the old man on the regular; having a ton of kids was just out of the question at her age.

"Yeah, we know, but we wanna know what's gonna happen now, too," Shiro said quietly.

Isshin finally turned to face them, dark eyes narrowed and way more serious than they'd ever seen them before. "I would never force the two of you to do anything. Why do you think I would do that to Karin?"

"We never said that!" Ichigo snapped, offended. "We just wanna know what's gonna happen. Karin's still in high school and she's gonna need a lot of help-"

"Ichigo."

The way their old man had said his name made a chill slide down his spine. Yep, it was official. He'd never seen Isshin Kurosaki this serious in all of his life.

"Haven't I done my best as a father?"

The question threw him for a loop and made him sit absolutely still, mouth slightly ajar as he stared at his sire.

Isshin took that as a positive response and went on. "Then what makes you think I'll stop now? Karin is hardheaded and she's going to learn this the hard way, but I will continue to support her. She is my child, just as you two are."

Well, shit. That just left Ichigo with a bad taste in his mouth. He hadn't been the best kid in the world, hadn't even felt the urge to go to college and continue his education, but here he apparently had the best father in the world, willing to bed over backwards for his knucklehead kids. It was certainly a wake-up call if not anything else.

"Hm. So, how's she doin'?" Shiro asked, breaking the suddenly taut silence.

"She's fine. If you came home more often, you'd know that."

Woo. This was a day for stomping on the norm, that was for sure. Ichigo exchanged uneasy glances with Shiro before nodding and steepling his fingers over the desk.

"It's a deal, then. We'll come home every weekend."

Shiro shot him a startled look before meeting their old man's gaze. With no other choice but to accept the situation as it stood, he nodded as well.

"Yeah."

Isshin's face brightened like a lamp. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," they said in unison, never minding the dread roiling in their guts.

Ichigo knew they'd been neglecting their family and it was time to cut the crap, time to start behaving like a Kurosaki.

"That means ya gotta stop bein' an idiot from time ta time, though," Shiro griped, making Ichigo chuckle before immediately sobering.

"Haha, my sons! Papa's glad-"

"See that's what we mean right there! What's with this 'Papa' shit? We're not living in the Little House on the Prairie!" Ichigo huffed with a mock frown.

As annoyed as he was, he couldn't overlook the warm feeling spreading through his stomach. Maybe being around his family would be good for him, for them. It would definitely take his mind off of his dead lover. With a hidden grimace, he leaned back in his seat and watched his father fuss over them.

It just had to.

**Feel free to skip this A/N!**

**I really hate to waste space like this...so sorry.**

**Dear Anonymous reader 1(You know who you are), and Anonymous Coward – I mean, Reader 2, "U Knw Me":**

**I'm going to address the first one. I'm confused...last time I checked, I have a life that needs tending way before this fan fiction thing. I write this because I enjoy it, not to serve readers' whims. My life definitely ranks above fan fiction at this point. Understand that, or don't read my work. You came at me like it's MY fault that YOU keep coming back to MY page looking for updates for this story. I'm sorry, but I'm still confused. Was this supposed to intimidate me? Make me feel bad? Guilt trip me? LoL, sweetie, seriously... I update whatever I feel like writing at the time, so if that doesn't suit your fancy, then fuck off. And no amount of "dears" is going to excuse your tone, so you could have saved them. **

**Next up is my favorite. "U Knw Me," who left such a titillating review for Dirty... SMH (shaking my head). DUDE. You are the PERFECT example of several things: 1) an anonymous coward 2) a pointless flamer 3) a hater {but I guess this goes hand-in-hand with a pointless flamer} and 4) someone who appears to be sadly misinformed. **

**First of all, only my friends have the right to call me a bitch, so you definitely need to fall back with that one. Secondly, I'd really like to know how I'm a racist... O_o Really? That one threw my ass for the proverbial loop since race has nothing to do with this story at all. But since you wanna go there, I'm guessing that you have your panties in a bunch thinking I'm writing about Black people and mocking the ghetto lifestyle, yes? If so, please get a clue or check my dA page before you jump bad over the web, you pathetic little internet gangster. Not to mention, your whole spiel on smoking weed and drinking being bad was so pointless. Have you told this to the millions of people who do it everyday? Have you called up the creators and directors of The Wire and Oz? How about The Corner? Same shit, different venue. Have you flamed authors of Urban Romance, who write the SAME DAMNED THING? You _really_ should have thought this over before opening mouth and inserting foot. Thirdly, son, come the fuck on. Is this fan FICTION or not? Get a fucking clue, would you! Just the term itself gives me license to write whatever the fuck I want, whether that's making the characters shamelessly OOC, having everyone gay, or making them grow gills and swim to Atlantis. If you don't like the shit, then _don't fucking read it_. Simple, right? As far as me being overrated, I really couldn't care less what your personal opinion of me is, so feel free to continue thinking that. Wow, you are so lame for this, there are no words left to describe it. Why go to the bother of leaving such an aimless review? And anonymously at that? Have you wasted other people's time for writing about vampires, werewolves and other mythical beings? Have you flamed those who have written stories with almost the same content as Dirty? Have you flamed other stories where the majority of the characters are homosexual? You do realize that this genre is yaoi and that us authors can write whatever the hell we want, right? LoL. I love how people use the excuse of not wanting to be hit with the fallback as a reason for writing bullshit anonymously. All you're _really_ doing is proving how much of a coward you are. One who only grows a set of balls when no one knows OR CARES who the fuck you are. I gotta ask, though: why you so mad, bro? LoL, you should find something better to do with yourself, kid. You don't know me, you will NEVER know me, and what you – a pitiful peon of no importance – thinks of my work is of no consequence, babe. So, chew on that while I continue writing the shit I should be arrested for, and grabbing my pair of invisible nuts as I shove my middle finger up your virtual nose. **

**Lame fuck...**

**To the others reading this story and any of my other work, I sincerely apologize for this A/N, but it needed to be addressed. I'm no one's doormat, and the shit I'm currently going through in my real life has me in a very tight mood, which doesn't allow me to tolerate bullshit of this caliber. I don't give a fuck about flames, but when someone tries to verbally and personally attack me for no apparent reason at all, other than to have a self-righteous and pretentious rant, then I gotta say something. So, again, guys, I apologize for this interruption. Also, I want to apologize to the anonymous readers and reviewers that actually leave normal reviews because I'm going to disable that option for my stories. Maybe that will encourage those with no backbone and who use the anonymous option as a means to thoroughly hate on someone, to step forward and do so with a paper trail. **

**Racey~**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Wow, only one reviewer remembered that Unohana's been mentioned before. But to that same reviewer: I don't stick to canon that much, LoL. :-\ **

**Also, there's het this chapter, and it's pretty difficult to get through. I know it was tough for me to write. Just thought I'd warn you ahead of time so I won't have to hear about it in reviews.**

**Alrighty then.**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The Sand and Sea Diner was almost packed to capacity when she and Halibel arrived in the parking lot. Her blonde girlfriend cut the engine to their black, BMW X5, gemstone green eyes swinging towards the entrance.

"Crowded," she mused.

"That's good," Nel responded with a slick smirk. "Means we won't have eyes all over us during the meeting."

Halibel turned to face her with a small grin that made Nel wish they were still home in bed. "Ya know dat ain't true."

"Hey, you can't help being beautiful, I know. Just a cross I must bear," she added with a wistful sigh.

The blonde rolled her eyes and opened the driver's door before gracefully hopping out onto the blacktop. Nel followed her lead and met her on the other side of the truck. There, she resisted the urge to gather her girlfriend's hand in her own and instead made tracks for the diner. She was eager to get the details on what their old partner in crime had in mind for them. If it meant the resurrection of the "Murder Mamis", she was game. She'd missed their camaraderie.

They trooped inside past a group of people standing and sitting while waiting for tables, where Nel craned her neck and instantly spotted their dark-haired friends seated at the back of the diner. Yoruichi was the one facing them and her cat-like, golden eyes lit up upon sighting them. She lifted her chin with a small grin before the other dark-haired woman she sat with twisted in her seat and found them as well. Dark eyes twinkled with mischief as her lips tilted into a sideways smirk and she lifted a hand in greeting, also beckoning them over. Nel felt a wide smile take over her features as she and Halibel headed over, bodies weaving expertly around the waiters and waitresses. It hadn't really been that long since they'd all seen each other, but they hadn't come together in this capacity in years and it sent shock-waves of excitement through her. They stopped at the girls' table, where Yoruichi stood, hugged both of them, then slid back into the booth, this time beside her girlfriend. Nel took the signal and eased into the vacated seat, making room for Halibel before meeting the caller of the meeting's eyes.

Tatsuki grinned cheekily. "Wussup, bitch?"

Nel cackled and reached across the table, lightly bumping fists with her old friend. "What up, hooker? Been a long time since we did this."

"Yeah, it has. I think we let shit get outta hand long enough, though. Those fuckin' Blood bastards been cuttin' a fool."

"I heard," Nel replied with a solemn nod. "Heard they did some major damage to the Crips."

"Mm. Tha's why I called this lil pow-wow. My boys been fuckin' wit' some Crip dudes and one of em was killed. So was my uncle's man, who jus' so happened ta be their leader. Crazy shit, man."

"Wait, Uncle Jyuu's man was _offed?_ Fuckin' _Starrk?_ Where the hell have I been?" Nel squeaked, exchanging glances with her girlfriend. Hal just stared back, expressionless. "Did you know about this?"

"Heard rumors."

"What the fuck. That's just wrong."

Tatsuki cleared her throat as a waitress bounced over to their table, face split into a wide, cheerful smile. "Hi, can I get you ladies something to drink? Or are you ready to order?"

Yoruichi immediately spoke up, placing an order for coffee. Halibel did the same, while Tatsuki and Nel ordered orange juice. That done, french toast specials were ordered all around the table. The waitress, whose name tag read "Orihime," bounced away, tucking her notepad into the pocket of her black apron. Once she was at a safe distance away, Tatsuki met Nel's eyes.

"I got a couple ideas," she said with her trademark smirk that promised pain.

Nel returned it with one of her own. "Share the wealth, woman."

XOXOXO

The park was eerily quiet at this hour, but it made for some good atmosphere. Granted, it was three in the morning, but Ichigo'd been unable to sleep. So, rather than toss and turn in bed all night, he'd left the apartment for a ride and had made his way to the park. He'd driven with the music low for a change and ended up leaving his car in the lot nearest the baseball and soccer fields as he'd meandered over to the kiddie playground. He'd climbed the slide, sneakers unable to grip the slippery metal the way he'd wanted them to, but still, he'd made it to the top and perched there, where he currently sat, staring across the darkened grounds.

Normally, at a time like this, he'd light up, kick back and eventually catch some Zs, but he was trying to cut back on smoking. It felt _weird_. It was like after Grimmjow died, he didn't want to be involved with anything that reminded him of the man. It was too fucking painful. He caught himself frowning down at his stretched out legs and briefly closed his eyes. He willed the morbid images of Grimmjow's death away, disappointed when the blue-haired man's rare smile filled his mind instead. Like that was any better. And then suddenly, their entire relationship was flashing before his eyes. All the pain they'd endured, the distrust, the misunderstandings, the fighting, the amazing sex, and ultimately the tender moments. It was all too overwhelming.

Ichigo covered his face with his hands and took slow, even breaths, eyes squeezed shut. Then he swallowed and lowered his hands to his lap, gradually opening his eyes. It was going to be hell trying to forget about Grimmjow. And he would have to, or else he'd completely lose his sanity. Already he missed being around him, missed the man's blunt and often-time abrupt manner of speaking, missed his touches and kisses. He missed the way Grimmjow said his name, he missed the man's voice, hell, he missed those slicing blue eyes. Yeah, he missed looking into those the most.

"What the fuck," he growled into the silence.

This was why sleep eluded him. He couldn't stop thinking about his dead lover and it was going to kill him if he couldn't get it together. As a way to get around it, he'd decided to go home and visit his family every weekend with Shiro. And on top of that, he'd been debating with himself about going back to school. It wasn't too late to try and find a career in something, and he figured now was better than never. Actually, now was _perfect_. Along with the trips home, taking classes would keep his mind too busy to think about Grimmjow. He'd run the idea across his brother and Shiro had agreed that it would be good for _both_ of them. They couldn't continue depending on their old man's generosity for the rest of their lives, and perhaps...perhaps it _was_ time to do a bit of growing up. He and his twin had been ripping and running the streets for long enough. It was high time they hang up their party hats and become adults. There was nothing wrong with hanging out from time to time, but they just couldn't make it a way of life anymore. Hell, he and Shiro partied like it was a career.

He chuckled and shook his head remembering all the times he and his brother had been so fucked up, they hadn't been able to recall what the fuck they'd done the night before. Insane. Ichigo vividly relived the night he'd warned Shiro not to smoke with Shishigawara, who'd been widely known for lacing his blunts with angel dust. It'd been high school graduation night, and had Shiro listened? Of course not. The albino had gone on to do just what he'd been told not to. Dusted out of his mind, Shiro had stripped down until he was buck-naked and run for three blocks, screaming his lungs to shreds about the ants crawling all over his skin. Needless to say, his twin had learned his lesson that night.

They'd never fucked with wet. That shit smelled inhumane for one thing, and for another, smoking something soaked in formaldehyde had never really seemed appealing. What the fuck? Wasn't that the shit they filled dead people with? Why the hell anyone would smoke that crap was beyond Ichigo. Nah, he'd been fine with plain old marra-ju-wanna. They'd tried ecstasy once, though, and that was an experience that would remain a firmly kept secret between the twins. Ichigo cringed in shame as he thought about how high he'd been off that one little pill. And he'd been so fucking happy! Not to mention horny. In fact, he and Shiro had been so horny, they'd ended up doing things brothers really had no business doing with each other. The next few days had been awkward as shit, that was for sure. It'd taken them at least a week before they could look at each other without blushing like complete imbeciles. After that, they'd stayed far away from E pills and anything else harder than weed. It just wasn't worth finding out what the side effects were.

Now, they were ready to turn over new leaves. Isshin would be ecstatic. Hell, the older man was already tickled pink that they'd be coming home every weekend. And with that, Ichigo thought about Karin and her situation for the umpteenth time. Karin refused to say who the father of the kid was, instead claiming she really didn't know him and that he'd been a one-night stand. Who the hell were they to argue with her? If she didn't want them to know the truth, they wouldn't know it. Shiro was angry about it, though. He wanted to go looking for the "cretin who'd knocked up their baby sister," conveniently forgetting that Karin played a part in the scenario as well. Ichigo'd had to tell him it was a two-way street and that you couldn't blame one without blaming the other. Shiro had reluctantly calmed down, but every now and then, when the topic arose, he'd grumble and scowl.

Ichigo also felt that maybe if they got their acts together, it would inspire Karin to do the same. Her behavior was killing their old man, even if he tried to pretend that it wasn't. He and Shiro hadn't been any kind of angels, by far, but they'd flown the coop, so to speak. Not that it was an excuse for what they'd been doing, but still...they weren't misbehaving right under the old goat's nose.

Yuzu, on the other hand, was the Kurosaki golden child. She was focused on her studies, determined to make a way for herself. She didn't drink, didn't smoke, rarely hung out with friends, and was almost always seen reading a book. She was soft-spoken, where Karin was harsh with her words, and she cooked and cleaned, where Karin lazed about until party time rolled around. The girls' clashing personalities didn't help their relationship with one another, either. Karin was bitter and envious of her twin, living with the misgiving that Isshin preferred the brunette girl over herself. She was downright evil to Yuzu, which pissed Ichigo off any time he happened to see it. And the bad part about it: Yuzu was always nice and he could always see the hurt shining in her eyes when Karin mistreated her.

Things had to change within their family. How he'd been satisfied letting things go on as they were, he had no idea.

Ichigo coasted down the slide, climbed to his feet, then ambled over to the edge of the playground, where he stood and stared over the rolling hills of the park. The half moon lit up the night sky and bright stars sprinkled around it like glittering fairy dust. It was beautiful, but now, more than ever, it made him yearn for his dead lover. God, he missed Grimmjow so much. He closed his eyes and pictured the man's face as he'd told Ichigo he loved him. How blue the gangster's eyes had been, how deep and serious his voice had been, and then how warm his lips had been when he'd kissed him and told him he'd be back to be with him for real. Ichigo'd thought that was the last time he'd see him, but Grimmjow had returned a lot sooner, damned near distraught with need and yearning. It'd been so hard not clinging to him and telling him that he loved him and that it was OK for the man not to leave. They'd made love that night, damn the term "fucking." Grimmjow had shared a side of himself Ichigo was sure no one but Shinji knew about. They'd been happy, and Ichigo had been hopeful, thinking maybe, just maybe everything would work itself out in the end. And then he'd lost him.

He couldn't fight the onslaught of tears this time. No amount of deep breathing could mend the gaping wound in his heart. He'd finally found love, and it'd been taken away from him before he even knew what to do with it. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He ran his hands through his hair and let free a shuddering sigh.

"Grimm, you asshole. Why'd you have to go and die?" he whispered to no one in particular. "I loved you." He paused and opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the serene night sky again. "Shit...I think I'll always love you. I hope you can hear me wherever you are."

XOXOXO

He was back at the strip club, back upstairs and hidden away with his new favorite, Chardonnay. The girl was bad. Like _Michael Jackson_ bad. Tonight she wore a white g-string and white bikini top with glittering rhinestones trimming the edges. She wore smoky-looking makeup and six inch, clear stilettos. Her body shimmered with oil and she smelled divine. Not like some of the other girls working the club. It was damned refreshing, that was for sure.

He was seated on the long, black couch, arms thrown across the back of it and eyelids low as he watched her hips sway back and forth. This was his own private show, and he was enjoying the hell out of it. Chardonnay's full lips curved into an impish grin as she tucked her thumbs beneath the waistband of her g-string and rotated her hips. She lowered into a gyrating squat, hazel eyes locked with his dark ones the entire time. He was already turned on. God, the girl was good at her job. He reached with his left hand for the glass on the end table beside him and took a long, careful sip. It was his usual: Remy Martin and cranberry juice. He licked his lips and smirked as the bass to the song playing shivered through his bones.

_Lamborghini Mercy_

_Yo chick, she so thirsty_

_I'm in that two seat Lambo_

_Wit' yo girl, she tryna jerk me_

Chardonnay came out of her seductive squat and straightened, only to fluidly roll her hips back and forth, thumbs slowly dragging the material of her g-string down past her ass. She turned her back to him, giving him a front row seat to a showing of her perfectly rounded bottom. She glanced over her shoulder, still grinning and winked at him. Yeah, this was getting good. He emptied his glass, set it back on the end table, then reached for the blunt resting in the ashtray beside it. It took a second for him to light it, but afterward, he inhaled deeply. He wanted to get good and gone before he fucked her tonight. He'd had a ball with her the other night, throwing her long, shapely legs over his shoulders as he'd dug into her goods.

Her lower body was exposed now, the tempting V of her womanhood calling out to him like a siren. He grinned, took a few more pulls from the blunt, then set it back in the ashtray. He met her gaze and crooked a finger, beckoning her over to him. It was time to get this show on the road since he had a few more runs to make before he took it down for the night. She sashayed over to him, hands going behind her back and tugging at the strings holding her top in place. It didn't take more than a few expert yanks to have it loose and sliding from her masterpiece breasts. She stopped in front of him and put her hands on her wide hips.

"This what you want, T?" she asked, voice low and lusty.

Tousen smirked. "Almost."

"Oh? What am I missing?"

"My dick in ya mouth." He didn't notice the way she flinched slightly. He was too high, too focused on getting inside her again. He patted his lap and the smirk he wore widened. "Come on."

This time, however, he noticed her hesitation and frowned. But before he could say anything, she was lowering herself between his legs and slowly undoing his belt. His frown immediately disappeared, replaced with an anticipatory grin. She hadn't sucked him off last time, but he'd be damned if he let the opportunity slip by tonight. Once his pants were undone and resting down around his thighs, he shifted his hips, giving her better access to his already hard length. She wrapped a dainty hand around it and stroked it, spreading the liquid gathered at the head. His eyes rolled shut as he leaned back against the couch cushion. That was good, but he wanted more.

"Suck it," he urged, eyes still closed and head still back.

She ran her hand over him a few more times before wet heat slowly engulfed him, making a deep grunt jump out of his chest. That was more like it. She started out slowly, taking her time getting his whole erection moist before speeding up and taking more of it into her mouth. His hand found its way into her hair as he moaned and hissed, grunted and sighed. Damn, the girl had a magical tongue. His hips got in on the action as he none too gently guided her head down lower towards his pelvis. She gagged and his eyes shot open. He'd kill the bitch if she threw up on him. Luckily for the both of them, she recovered in record time and resumed her previous pace. He'd take it easy on her for now, but sooner or later, he was gonna teach the ho how to deep throat a dick the right way.

The noises of her sucking were loud enough to reach him over the music and it got him hot and bothered. He was moving along with her now, ready to explode in her mouth, when his cell started ringing and buzzing persistently. Normally, he'd ignore it until he was done with his business, but he recognized the ringtone. It belonged to his right hand, Yammy, and if Yammy was calling, it had to be important. Instead of stopping the stripper, he reached over to the end table, grabbed his phone and connected the call.

"Wha's poppin', Blood?" he greeted.

Yammy's deep voice boomed over the line. "Yo, we got a problem down on Fifth."

"What kinda problem?" Tousen gritted through clenched teeth. Chardonnay had just sucked hard on the head of his dick and made his toes curl.

"Somebody hit the stash house."

That got him in the gut. He roughly pulled the girl off his still standing arousal and sat up, not quite sure he'd heard Yammy correctly.

"What?" he snapped into the receiver.

"The whole spot is empty. Somebody looted that shit, buzzin'."

"Aw, hell."

That was the worst possible news he could've received at a time like this. And he wasn't talking about him being interrupted while getting his rocks off, either. He was at the height of his gang career and things had nowhere to go but up. Or so he'd thought.

"Aight, I'm comin'. Who's there?"

"Ace, Chuck and Boot. They were the ones on duty when the shit got knocked."

"Fuckin' amateurs. An' you said everything's gone?"

"All of it. The dope, the coke, the bread, the guns: it's all missin'."

"Un-fuckin'-believable. I'm on my way." He ended the call and hurriedly dragged his underwear and pants back over his hips, slightly saddened that he wouldn't be able to get the nut he wanted. "Sorry, Sexy. Rain check."

Chardonnay smiled and nodded as she climbed onto the couch and watched him gather his things and prepare to leave. He was at the door, when he looked back and paused. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a knot of money and peeled of four hundred dollar bills. He tossed them onto the floor and slammed the door shut, unaware of the sick look on the pretty stripper's face.

He had someone's dirty laundry to air out.

XOXOXO

"Well, see...this is how it's gonna go," Gin started, eyelids low as he glared at the man duct taped to a love seat. "Ya tell me where the money is, I get it, an' ya might live. If yer short, ya die."

The tall, dark-haired man narrowed his eyes, but remained silent. It was great that the man had heart and all, but no one crossed The Man and got away with it. He was like God, omniscient and omnipresent. If you fucked up, ten times out of ten, he already knew about it and was just waiting to send in a crew to clean up the mess. That crew was Gin and his sister, Genevieve. Genevieve stood by the door, arms folded across her chest as she watched with boredom. Gin could smell a yawn coming.

"Ya got spunk, I'll give ya that. But we ain't really got time ta shoot the shit witcha, Shaw. Now, The Man wants his money. _Where_ is it?" he asked, growing impatient and a little bored himself.

Shawlong Qufang, one of The Man's former, loyal workers, stared hard at him, head cocked to the side in quiet contemplation. Finally, the stalwart guy opened his mouth.

"Are you his new lapdog, Ichimaru?"

Ahhh...

Genevieve quickly stepped forward and shoved Gin aside, which was lucky. He'd been a hairsbreadth away from making Shawlong suck a bullet out the barrel of his Desert Eagle.

"Look, Shaw," she started, voice icy as her eyes. "Let's not beat around the bush here. You're in a lotta trouble an' this is the only way ta fix it. Now, you can cooperate, or I let my brother here do what he started to a second ago."

Gin's finger twitched over the trigger of his gun as he bore holes into the thin man's face, just waiting for the smart mouth to do the wrong thing.

"I'm disappointed in you, Genevieve. I thought you were better than this. I must have misjudged you when I thought you were too proud to follow at your brother's coattails."

"Lemme kill 'im, 'Vieve," Gin said softly.

His twin's back was stiff and face pale as she glowered at the man taped to his own furniture. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, a low growl emanating from her position over Shawlong.

"I tried ta help you. Now you die. We already _know_ where the money is, Shaw. S'too bad ya had ta be an asshole about things," she said lowly, getting right up in the man's face. When she straightened, she whirled on her heel and brushed shoulders with Gin. "Do your worst, bro."

He gave his signature toothless grin and nodded. "Of course."

Without further ado, he put a bullet in both the man's knees, then his shoulders. He had to give it to Shawlong, even though the guy flinched and bared his teeth in pain, he never cried out. Strong SOB. Too bad he was a thief and a liar. Gin holstered his gun at his hip, then retrieved a bottle of lighter fluid from the pocket of his long, black trench coat. With an amiable smile, he squirted the potent-smelling liquid over the dark-haired man's head, then proceeded to douse the carpet and other furniture all throughout the house. It took him around five minutes to complete the task before he was standing in front of Shawlong again.

"Time's up, old man. Hope ya got yer Summer gear 'cuz it's hot where yer goin'."

Gin patted the man's cheek, turned on his heel and followed Genevieve out the door. Once he crossed the threshold, he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, withdrew one, lit it with a match, then tossed the entire lit book onto the flammable carpet. Everything erupted seemingly all at once, including the love seat Shawlong was taped to.

"Ta-ta, sweetheart," Gin mumbled before slamming the door shut.

They trooped to the curb and climbed into a nondescript, white, utility van before peeling away from the curb. He and Genevieve exchanged smirks as they drove towards the junkyard to scrap the van. His Mercedes was parked in the lot there, just waiting for him to bring her home, and he couldn't wait. He lifted a hand to scratch his ear, forgetting about the latex gloves on his hands. Shit. The itch would just have to wait.

The sound of a cell phone ringing made him glance over at his sister, curious. He waited until she'd pulled the device from her coat pocket to ask, "Who's that?"

After a quick look at the screen, she gave a genuine smile. "Crystal."

"Ah."

He fell silent and allowed his twin her moment. However, the minute Genevieve answered the call, her tone made his head whip in her direction again.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she screeched. "Alright, alright. Stop cryin'. I'll come get you after I'm done with this run. Yeah. Yeah. Oh? Did he say who? No, no, that's good. Alright, love, I'll see you in a few."

Genevieve sighed and slid the phone back into her pocket, while Gin waited impatiently for an explanation. The silence stretched on for way too long, so he sucked his teeth and drummed the steering wheel with long, agitated fingers.

"I gotta ask, huh?"

His sister smirked, rolling her head towards him. "Nah. Crys says Tousen got a call from somebody and it sounded like they were robbed. Somewhere over on Fifth. If I remember correctly, ain't one of their stash houses over there? The Man sent us over there once, right?"

Gin rubbed his chin in thought. It was true. The Bloods had several stash houses where they kept product so it would be easily accessible on the streets, and he distinctly remembered one being located on Fifth. But if they'd been robbed and it wasn't ordered by The Man – he and Genevieve would've been the first to know – then, who the hell had balls big enough to do it? It could've been the Crips as a means of retaliation for the loss of their leader and second in command, but it didn't make sense. Hitting a stash house was a nuisance, nothing more. It was mainly done to send a warning.

"Yeah, there's one over there. Question is: who the hell dunnit?" he asked.

Genevieve shrugged and leaned back in her seat. "Beats the shit outta me. But...whoever it was...I applaud them."

He nodded in total agreement. "I second that."

XOXOXO

She bustled into the guest room turned hospital room and quietly shut the door behind herself. Soft beeping filled the silence, as did the soft swishing of the respirator. She looked over the cot in the corner of the room, where two men lay entwined in one another's arms quite intimately. The pink-haired one stirred slightly, but settled when no further noise was made.

She shuffled over to the much larger bed by the floor to ceiling windows, where the heavy drapes were drawn, blocking out any form of moonlight. She flicked on a lamp, filling the room with a soft, yellowish glow. The figure huddled in the middle of the mattress was pale and getting thinner by the day. It was almost eerie how much the once stout man resembled the little boy she'd cared for so many years ago. Back before she'd started working for Javier Yasutora. Back when she'd been a Certified Nurse's Assistant in the hospital in the less fortunate part of town. Back when she'd been hopelessly in love with a man being led down a dangerous path by none other than his own wife. Unohana paused at the side of the bed and replaced the bowl of water there with a fresh one. She wrung the water from the hand towel floating in it before mopping the pale brow of the figure in the bed. She clucked and fussed over him like he was awake and could hear her, hoping that it was partially true. She couldn't really bear the thought of losing this one too.

She remembered all too well the day J.J. had been killed. She hadn't been there, but she'd heard the gunshots from her home, heard the sirens of the police cars and ambulances as they'd arrived on the scene, and then she'd seen the small, blue-haired boy being led to a police cruiser while two stretchers were filed out of the house, black body bags on top of them. So sad. She'd wanted to adopt the young boy, but no one would tell her where they'd taken him. She'd done all she could to find him, but by the time she'd had enough money to adequately provide for him, he'd disappeared into the system.

His father had been a strapping, handsome man before his no-good wife had gotten him hooked on dope. He'd been tall, muscular, very gorgeous with bright blue eyes and wild, dark hair. He'd had a devilish smirk that could set the souls of women everywhere on fire, but his heart had belonged to his wife. His name had been James Jaegerjaques, but everyone had called him J.J. They'd had a little boy, who'd looked the spitting image of his father, minus the dark hair. He'd inherited his mother's sky-blue tresses.

J.J. had loved and cared for the boy until his addiction had taken hold of him. Then, Unohana had made it her business to make sure the little one had had food, or whatever else he'd asked for when his parents were too busy getting high. She remembered his name too. Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. And God, he'd been the sweetest little boy. Polite, smart, and quiet. She'd hated that such a horrible thing had had to happen to him. But somehow fate had brought him back to her.

She glanced lovingly down at the pale face again and brushed aside dry, blue hair. He'd been brought to her employer's house on the brink of death. Luckily, Javier had this makeshift hospital room since his mother had been ill and had required constant vigil in her last days. Javier wasn't one for hospitals and authority figures. Hence, the room. And then two boys had barged into the room, one with pink hair and the other with dark hair. They'd both worked on the blue-haired man until he was stable enough to be left on a respirator. He still required a lot of care since he'd been shot so many times – six, wasn't it? Once in the right arm, once in his right thigh, once in his right shoulder, once in his left arm, once in the chest, and a bullet had grazed the left side of his head. But he was a strong boy. He'd made it through all of that. It was just pure luck that none of the bullets had damaged any vital organs or arteries.

After cleaning his face again, she put the hand towel back in the bowl, and went to carefully change his sheets and perform the other necessary duties for a bedridden patient. Javier had been incensed at the sight of the young man, and she'd wondered why. Yes, she knew who and what her boss was, she even knew who the blue-haired youngster had become, but none of that mattered. What mattered was his safety. Now, she was trying to figure out why he meant so much to her boss. Javier was very secretive, and in his line of work, that was quite understandable. And to prove her point, no amount of eavesdropping had done her any good. She'd been unable to glean any kind of information, whether good or bad. That was OK. She was just happy to be entrusted with the boy's well-being.

She finished her rounds and came back beside him, where she dipped her head and dropped a kiss on his brow. She had another chance to love him like he was her very own child.

**Le gasp! Now you can stop pestering me about this. However, don't expect ole Grimm to hop right back into the swing of things. Don't forget, this is a trilogy and things have to get a lot worse before they can even _think_ about getting better. Also, I never said Unohana was Sado's mom. Ya gotta stop assuming things when you read this story. It'll only lead to disappointment. **

**Other than that, hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading~**

**Next time...**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The stash house was a mess.

Tousen looked around, astonished. When Yammy had given him the news of the robbery, Tousen hadn't really expected it to be _this_ fucking bad. The two leather couches in the living room were overturned and shredded until they were almost unrecognizable. The coffee table was on its side. Paintings that had decorated the beige walls were on the floor, and whole sections of the off-white carpet were ripped away. Tousen stuck his hands in his pockets and silently counted to ten. If just the living room looked like this, there was no telling what condition the rest of the apartment was in. Anger twisted and bubbled inside him, demanding its way out, but miraculously, Tousen managed to keep a lid on it.

Barely.

"How the fuck did this happen, Yammy?" he growled.

Yammy shrugged extremely wide shoulders and shook his head. "I jus' got here not too long after I called you."

"Who was in charge again?"

"Ace was s'posed to be out front, Chuck and Boot inside."

Tousen glared at Yammy, wondering how the idiot could just stand there and be so fucking _stupid_. "Did it ever occur to you that if those three weren't dead when you got here, then it means they had somethin' ta do with the robbery?"

Finally, a glimmer of understanding passed over the giant's face. Tousen whirled on his heel and stormed outside the apartment onto the front porch, where he quickly scanned the block. Of course, the three in question were missing. Tousen bared his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. By all rights, he could kill Yammy for the man's stupidity. He wouldn't even be punished for it, either. All Tousen could do was stand there and stare across the street, not really paying attention to the fiends passing back and forth. Not even noticing the black Ford Explorer parked halfway down the block. He was too busy worrying about how he was supposed to tell _Aizen-fucking-Sosuke_ that a stash house under _his_ watch had been knocked over. About how he couldn't let Yammy's mistake slide, even though the giant was the closest thing to a friend Tousen would ever have.

Grimacing, he reached for the gun nestled at the small of his back as he turned and dipped inside the apartment again. "Dammit, Yammy, you dumbass," he growled.

Yammy didn't even know what hit him when Tousen put two bullets in his head.

XOXOXO

Shinji had Shiro's pale left leg over a shoulder as he drove himself in and out of the man's tight opening.

"Yeah, Shin," the albino moaned breathlessly, strange eyes squeezed shut.

Shinji smirked as he pulled back and slowly rolled his hips, mercilessly teasing his lover. Shiro's nails dug into the skin of Shinji's shoulders as he threw his head back and howled. God, Shinji loved that shit. He leaned forward and put his mouth next to a pale ear, then lowered his voice to a growl.

"Like that?"

"Ungh! No, ya bastard!"

Shinji's smirk widened as he rolled his hips again, grinding slow and deep. "No?"

Shiro moaned lavishly, then opened fiery eyes. "Shin, ya know I hate when ya do this shit! Jus'...ahhhh...f-fuck me."

Shinji ran a hand over Shiro's tight abdomen, caressing his lover's taut pelvis, but not quite going for gold like Shiro wanted. He nipped the albino's ear before gently nuzzling the soft skin right behind it. At the same time, he rolled his hips yet again, slow, filling Shiro with his entire length.

"Yer such a lousy tease," Shiro mourned, eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

Shinji had had about enough playing himself. His orgasm had been steadily building for the past five minutes, and he'd only resorted to teasing his boyfriend because he'd wanted to make the sensation last a tiny bit longer. Playtime was officially over.

He hoisted Shiro's leg a little higher up on his shoulder and got a good, firm grip on the albino's nearly desperate erection. He braced his weight on his free hand and allowed his hips to take control. The pace turned firm. Hard and fast. Both of them were breathing like they'd been shot in the chest, but damn did it burn so good. Shinji rested his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck and gritted his teeth. Shiro always got super tight when he was about to come, and now was no different. Shinji decided to speed things along since he was toeing the edge of that pleasure precipice and not too sure how long he'd be able to last. He tugged on Shiro's twitching length once. Twice. Three times.

That was all she wrote for the younger man.

Shiro erupted all over Shinji's hand and even on his own belly. But the best parts had to be the expression he wore and the delicious sounds he made as he reached climax. It was a mixture of a long howl and a moan fit for a whore house. Absolute perfection in Shinji's opinion.

The tight fit around his dick almost made him cringe, but instead, he grinned through the slight discomfort and found the ecstasy buried beneath it. Then, everything went stark white before turning pitch black. He was instantly exhausted, heart pounding relentlessly. The grin spread as he sank on top of Shiro and nosed the pale column of the man's neck.

"I'm sleepy," he slurred.

Didn't help that he'd had an entire pint of Remy to himself a couple hours earlier.

Shiro huffed and rolled his head in Shinji's general direction, eyes hooded. "Lazy fucker," he grumbled.

The words were completely antagonizing, but the languid amusement in the albino's eyes sapped all the intended heat from them. Shinji chuckled and closed his eyes. "Whatever ya say, babe. I don' even got the energy ta argue."

"I love it when yer all mushy an' shit." Shiro lay in silence for a few more beats before sucking his teeth. "Ya think I c'n have mah leg back?"

Shinji cackled this time as he carefully let Shiro's leg slide to the bed. "Fergot."

Shiro groaned and turned into Shinji's side, long arm draping over Shinji's shoulders. They didn't say anything for a while, so Shinji drifted in and out of sleep. The peaceful lulls after sex with Shiro always led to some of the best rest he'd ever had. But of course it didn't last very long.

It started with Shiro's fingers combing through Shinji's hair. That was nothing new. Actually, it felt pretty good. Then, the thoughtful sighs began. Shinji's shoulders slumped as he recognized the warning signs of Shiro having something on his mind. What the hell now?

"Jus' fuckin' spit it out," Shinji grunted, eyes still closed. Shiro chortled, obviously nervous. That got Shinji's left eye to crack open. Something was definitely up. "You gonna talk, or do I gotta drag it outta ya?"

Again with the uneasy laughter. "It's nothin' bad."

"Yer makin' me think otherwise," Shinji growled, both eyes open and head lifted from his pillow.

"Relax. I was jus' gonna say I registered fer school yesterday."

Shinji paused, speechless. Of all the things he'd been expecting his boyfriend to say to him, that certainly hadn't been one. School? What the hell had brought this about?

"Uh..." he said.

Shiro laughed before sobering and kissing Shinji's damp shoulder. "Was that a good 'uh', 'er should I be worried?"

"I'own know what ta say."

"Yeah, I noticed the absence of yer usual smart ass."

Shinji smirked and threw an arm around Shiro's waist as he tugged him closer. "I think I like that idea, though," he started. "Long as ya don' try an' get all high an' mighty on me."

The albino snorted and buried his face into Shinji's chest. Shinji's smirk widened when he realized his lover was blushing and trying to hide it. A slow warmth spread outward from the blond's gut to his fingers and toes. One might think he'd be used to having a special someone in his life by now, but sometimes he still caught himself staring at Shiro in awe. Sometimes he wondered why such a genuinely good guy wanted anything to do with _him_. A gangster. A thug. A delinquent. It was baffling, but thrilling. Made him feel like he was actually worth something.

Words weren't much required after that, leaving Shinji to his wandering thoughts and Shiro to his slumber. The pale man had fallen asleep not even three minutes after he'd cuddled into Shinji's chest.

XOXOXO

Gin stared at The Man and tried his hardest not to fidget. Only, it wasn't that easy with Javier Yasutora watching him like a hawk. Well, the older man wasn't really watching him that closely, but the sharpness of those olive-green eyes made it seem like the guy was.

"Take a load off, Gin. Where's Genevieve?" The Man asked, reaching for the cigar smoldering away in a crystal ashtray in front of him.

Gin nodded and sat on one of the wicker chairs surrounding the small patio table. They were out back – their usual meeting place. It was so quiet, Gin was able to hear the crickets chirping from the bushes beyond the perimeter of the large, rectangular swimming pool. The water jets gurgled, and the ice cubes in The Man's short glass of brandy shifted. It was all very intimidating, but Gin was used to it.

"'Vieve's wit' Crystal."

"Ahh, I see. Well, since you're here, I suppose I don't have to inquire about tonight's job."

It wasn't really a question, but Gin figured he'd still answer. Just to be on the safe side.

"Yeah, everythin' went fine."

"Good. I have a favor to ask, Gin."

"Anythin'," Gin answered as soon as the words left The Man's mouth. "Ya don' even gotta ask, Sir."

The Man gave him a fond smile before taking a careful puff from the fat cigar between his fingers. The background noise filtered in again as Gin watched The Man mull over what he wanted to say. When Gin had first encountered The Man's thinking process, it had thrown him off. He'd thought he was in trouble at the time, until the older man had explained to him that he liked to think about what he was going to say before actually saying it. It made his words have more impact, he'd said. Gin agreed.

The Man blew smoke through his nose and settled his gaze on Gin once more. "I need you to find someone, and bring him here to see me."

The silver-haired man smiled. "Tha's easy."

"I'm not so sure."

Now, that was a first. Normally, The Man put his utter faith in Gin's abilities.

"Who's the guy tha's gotcha thinkin' I can't handle 'im?"

The Man chuckled. "I never said that. In fact, I'm sending you alone because I think you're the only one that _can_ handle him. I'm just giving you a little warning in advance. He's a bit...scrappy."

"Oh, I get it now," Gin said, relaxing his suddenly tense shoulders.

That was the last thing he wanted. He'd worked too hard to gain The Man's trust to have it turned aside at the first sign of real trouble. Well, actually a true test of Gin's skills. But now, he was really flattered and humbled. The Man could have sent his son, Sado, in Gin's place, and the fact that he _didn't_ spoke volumes of the trust Gin had earned. Warmth tingled through his veins as Gin tried not to dance with joy. As it was, he had a hard time stifling the grin full of pride that stretched across his face.

"So, when do I go see this guy? And who is he?"

The Man reached into the breast pocket of the short-sleeved button-up shirt he wore and withdrew a photo. He slid it across the table and went back to puffing on his cigar, while he apparently waited for Gin's assessment. Gin took the picture and stared at it. He'd seen this guy before and "scrappy" wasn't the word he'd use to describe him. More like "dangerous show-off."

"Ya want me ta bring this guy _here_?" he asked.

The Man grinned and nodded. "I take it you recognize the face."

Gin absolutely could _not_ hide the blank stare he gave his employer. But that was only because asking something like that was like asking if the President had a bodyguard.

"A'course I recognize him. I remember his partner too. Real junkyard dog, he was."

"That's good. I'll leave finding him to you. Will it be a problem?" The Man asked, eyes curious and solemn.

"Nope. When ya want 'im here?"

"A matter of hours."

That was really pushing it, but Gin refused to let The Man see him sweat.

"Alrighty," he mumbled and rose from his seat.

When he reached the patio door, The Man said, "I know you won't let me down, Gin."

Gin nodded, heart beginning to race. What The Man was asking of him was a huge task. It might have even been impossible to anyone else, but Gin was resourceful _and_ stubborn. Two traits that made it rather easy to get him whatever he wanted. He left The Man's house with a sense of anticipation and excitement. He always did love a good challenge.

**XxxxxX**

The light on the porch blinked on a minute after Gin rang the bell. He could've picked the locks, but felt being polite would make the situation go more smoothly. He shoved both hands in his pockets as he listened to the stairs creaking beyond the front door. He was really hoping this wouldn't get ugly, but the man he was there to see put the word "feisty" to shame. A lock was thrown and the knob twisted a second before the door swung open. Bleary brown eyes stared back at him, though narrowed from the glare of the porch light.

"Can I help you?"

Gin arched a brow. Well, this wasn't who he was here to see. The kid looked like he was in his early twenties, had bright orange hair and a fierce scowl.

"Mah, sorry ta bother ya, but is Mr. Hirako here?" Gin asked.

"Who?"

"Hmm...Slim?" he tried.

The kid arched a brow and shifted his weight. "Look, I think you have the wrong house or something."

"Mahh," Gin uttered, confused. Then a light bulb went on over his head. "Maybe ya know 'im by Shinji?"

Recognition lit the orange-haired kid's eyes a second before suspicion filled them. "And you are?"

"Ahh, ya c'n tell 'im I'm a friend a'his. Name's Gin Ichimaru."

"Um, OK."

The kid disappeared up the stairs, leaving Gin rocking back on his heels, hands still in his pockets. He didn't hear anything for a while, so he turned to face the street and lit up a cigarette. Shinji Hirako AKA Slim had the personality of a peacock carrying a loaded machine gun. He was a show-off, proud, but ridiculously smart and agile. Not to mention, his partner and best friend was the epitome of bad-ass motherfucker. Gin had heard a lot of disturbing rumors lately about the blue-haired gang member, but until he saw proof, he wouldn't believe any of them.

The stairs creaked again, drawing his attention back to the door. His wide grin was a force of habit, so he understood why Shinji looked at him like he'd lost all of his mind.

"I was curious, ya know?" the blond started, left hand slightly hidden behind his left thigh. "Since I ain't got no friend named 'Gin Ichimaru', I wanted ta see who the fuck ya were. Now, I'm pretty convinced. I don' know ya, so why ya here?" he asked as he brought the hidden hand up in front of him.

In it was a Heckler and Koch gun.

Gin continued to grin. He'd been expecting that at the very least. In fact, he was grateful Shinji hadn't started shooting first.

"An' it better be good," Shinji snapped.

Gin observed the blond gangster and snickered. Shinji's hair was a mess, mussed and tangled on one side, and he only had on a pair of dark boxers. In short, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. Considering the hour, it made sense.

"Heh," Gin chortled. "Mah, I got no beef witcha."

"Let _me_ decide that."

Gin nodded and lifted his hands in peace. Then, he pointed to the cigarette situated at the corner of his mouth. Shinji nodded with narrowed eyes. It was clear he wasn't letting Gin do anything that might result in any sudden movements. Gin removed the cigarette, took one last pull and tossed it. After he exhaled, he gave Shinji one of his rare serious expressions.

"My boss wants ta see ya. He _asks_, an' it's mah job ta _do_."

Shinji's frown remained, but his mouth quirked to the side. "The fuck is yer boss?"

"Javier Yasutora," Gin answered proudly.

A blond brow flew up in amusement. "Never heard of him."

An epic stare-down ensued. Gin wanted to draw his own weapon at Shinji's flippant remark, but remembered his purpose for being there in the first place and decided otherwise.

"He says he's got somebody ya need ta talk ta 'er somethin' like that."

"Not much of an errand boy, are ya?" Shinji quipped.

Gin's eyes slitted open as he glared at the man before him. "Mah, I came here all nice and quiet-like. Don' piss me off."

The two continued giving each other scary eyes, until Shinji smirked and lowered his gun. "I don' like pushovers, Gin. Glad yer not."

"Yeah, well..."

"So, how do I know this ain't a trap 'er somethin'? I don' know this Yasutora guy or you. How'm I s'posed ta trust ya?"

"It's called faith, friend," Gin said with a sideways grin.

Shinji gave him a long look before shrugging and glancing off the porch. "I don' got that no more."

"Well, I figured ya might be hes'tant 'bout comin' wit' me, so my boss gave me a lil somethin' ya might call initiative. He wants ta talk ta ya 'bout yer old leader, Starrk." That sharpened Shinji's brown eyes. Gin's grin spread. "Says he's got somethin' ya need ta know 'bout him."

Shinji averted his gaze again, jaw clenching as he studied the street. After a small eternity, he turned back to Gin and nodded.

"Lemme put some clothes on."

XOXOXO

"Where's Hal?" Tatsuki asked from the driver's seat of the SUV she'd borrowed.

Her green-haired friend grinned and leaned over the back of the head rest. "She went to dump all that bullshit we snagged. We're splittin' the money, though, right?"

"Duh, Nel."

"I'm jus' sayin'."

Silence reigned as they waited for some type of movement from the house they were watching. Tatsuki sat beside Yoruichi, who was leaning against the passenger window, yawning with boredom. Nel was bored too; Tatsuki could tell by the way the woman asked stupid questions and fidgeted like a toddler. Tatsuki wasn't too happy about the inertia, either, but if they wanted to drive the nail home in their plan, they had to be patient.

"The big one's really dumb," Nel said as she fiddled with the radio dial.

Tatsuki chuckled. "Yeah, he is. I can't believe he didn't put two and two together."

"There's what's-his-face," Yoruichi commented, nonchalant.

All eyes focused through the windshield as a dark-haired man stood on the porch of one of the nondescript houses on the block. He ran a hand through his inky tresses before trotting down the stairs and heading to a silver sedan. Once inside, he started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. Tatsuki waited a bit before starting the truck with a wide grin and following behind the man. She exchanged excited glances with the other occupants of the SUV. This was what they'd been looking for. All they needed to know now was where this man spent most of his time, where he did business, and who he did it with. Then, they could make their move.

"He doesn't look that tough ta me," Nel grumbled from the back seat.

Yoruichi giggled as Tatsuki sucked her teeth in response. "In that case, _we_ don't look that tough, either."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about. Me and Hal look hella tough."

"Nel, you look like a high school cheerleader. I'll concur that Hal looks plenty tough, though. 'Specially when she scared the crap outta those three kids. I thought they were gonna shit themselves," Tatsuki cackled, carefully switching lanes on the main road.

She kept a few car lengths back from the silver sedan, but made sure it stayed within her sight. As she drove, she thought about the conversation she'd had with her uncle the night before.

"_I don't know specifics, Tatsuki," Jyuushiro said quietly._

_They were seated at his kitchen table, but the atmosphere was anything but its usual comfort. It was tense and filled with silent grief. Tatsuki couldn't stand seeing her normally smiling uncle so sad. _

"_So, you don't know for sure who killed Starrk, then?" she asked._

_Her uncle sipped tea from the mug in his hand and shook his head. "I don't. I'm not sure I'd want to, either."_

"_I hate ta ask, but what do you know about what happened?" She was trying to be gentle, but that was impossible when the death of a loved one was involved. _

"_There was a massacre of that rival gang, the Bloods. Starrk and his people went to Blood territory and started a war. He was killed in the crossfire. It's rather simple."_

"_Yeah, but how did this all start? I know Starrk had ta mention somethin'. He trusted you with his life, Uncle Jyuu."_

_Jyuushiro took a slow, heavy breath, obviously fortifying himself, and gripped his mug of tea with both hands. His dark brows were drawn together, deep brown eyes sad and focused on the table. _

"_It started with his enforcer. Well, actually it started a long time before the kid even became Starrk's enforcer. Starrk was pretty cool with the kid's father, but they split ways when the guy got into drugs. The kid didn't know about his father and Starrk being friends, but Starrk was determined to see the kid taken care of. It's a really long story, Tatsuki. Why are you so interested anyway?"_

_Tatsuki's eyebrows had reached the ceiling during her uncle's short speech. Was a coincidence like that even real? _

"_Um...that's crazy," she muttered, still numb with disbelief. "That enforcer was sorta seein' my friend before he was killed."_

"_Killed?" Jyuushiro asked, clearly shocked. His eyes were wide and filled with panic. "How? Starrk was trying to prevent that!"_

"_I don't know the details, but it might have had somethin' ta do with that war they started."_

"_This is madness."_

_Tatsuki, on the other hand, was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her uncle's boyfriend had had such a history with Ichigo's dead blue-haired lover. Still..._

"_What else do you know, Uncle Jyuu. I might be able to figure somethin' out."_

"Figure something out" had been right. After what her uncle had explained to her, Tatsuki had an idea of exactly what was going on. The players in the game were huge, and the stakes were incredibly high. After she pulled into the parking lot of a modest apartment building, she shut off the SUV's engine and grinned back at Nel.

"Gotcha," she sang.

"Jackpot," Nel added, smirk sinister and mile-wide.

Now, the game would get even better.

**Next time...**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

* * *

><p><em>A ghetto love is the law that we live by<br>Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die _

_-Lost Boyz-_

* * *

><p><span>XOXOXO<span>

He felt like everyone was staring at him, like they all knew his secrets, and like they all knew he'd just lost the person he loved. It was nerve-wracking as hell. Ichigo passed by the packed student lounge and wrinkled his nose at the "fresh out of their teens" students littering the couches placed around the room. There were some playing pool at the long pool table in the center, while others hung around the ping pong table. Some even had their noses buried in top of the line laptops. Ichigo was so unused to the scene, it made him a little uncomfortable. It felt like eyes were crawling all over him, no matter where he went and no matter what he did, even after a week of classes.

He was on his way to a creative writing class, his chosen major. He'd always had a thing for writing in his spare time – something he kept quiet from Shiro and everyone else in his circle. He usually wrote short stories and poetry, but after doing a little research, he was interested in writing a full novel. His life would make one hell of a story.

Ichigo took his time climbing the stairs to the second floor where his class was located, mind on the one thing that had been plaguing him since its occurrence. The pain had subsided some, but not as much as Ichigo would have liked. It was still very much there and making it hard for him to concentrate on his classes. Hell, his professors had asked him after each one if he was feeling alright – he'd been that spaced out. Guess Grimmjow's death was going to be one of those major life hurdles that people sometimes encountered. Ichigo just wished he knew a shortcut to overcoming it.

At least a couple of good things had come from the whole sordid situation. His decision to spend more time with his family had resulted in a long talk with Karin and Yuzu, the former not so mad at the world anymore. Karin had explained to Ichigo that she'd only wanted their old man to look at her the way he did Yuzu. Ichigo had been right in assuming the dark-haired twin had been harboring a lot of jealousy towards her sister. It'd been like pulling deeply-rooted teeth getting the admission out of Karin, but in the end had served a greater purpose – that purpose being a less hostile teenager. Shiro had gotten on her case about not telling them who the father of her kid was, but she was pretty adamant about it. She still wasn't budging. In fact, it was more like she'd set her feet in concrete and dug in her heels.

Ichigo had come to the conclusion that a family sit-down was in order. He'd given Isshin a week to clear his schedule so they all could stop what they were doing and get the family back together. Hopefully, it worked. Ichigo hadn't realized while he'd been ripping and running the streets how much he missed his family, how much he missed his little sisters. Yuzu was doing really well in school, so it seemed she didn't need any lecturing, but the support of her older brothers would be a welcome inclusion, Ichigo was sure. Not to mention, the girl needed to get out and have some fun. Where Karin had been having _too_ much fun, Yuzu barely made time for herself at all. She was either studying, or doing one of her extra-curricular activities at school. Ichigo figured maybe a little outing with just the two of them would do the girl some good.

But aside from the girls, Shiro had enrolled in the community college, taking EMT/EMS courses. For some reason, the albino wanted to drive an ambulance the way a kid wanted to catch Santa coming down the chimney on Christmas Eve. Ichigo didn't understand it – the noise alone would drive him halfway to crazy – but he was supportive of his twin's decision. At least Shiro wanted to do _something_. Although they didn't attend the same college, Ichigo managed to catch up with Shiro after classes were over and they were back at the apartment, doing homework. It was a good thing too, since Shinji had suddenly stopped showing up. Shiro pretended he was fine, but Ichigo definitely knew better. He could see in his brother's strange eyes just how upset he was. And who wouldn't be?

Ichigo had tried bringing the subject up a time or two, but Shiro didn't seem ready to talk about it, casually brushing aside every attempt. Ichigo, on the other hand, was absolutely livid. After what had happened to Grimmjow, Shinji had no right up and disappearing without warning. He had no right leaving Shiro alone at a time when they were _both_ feeling especially vulnerable and insecure about the future. Still, through all the anger, Ichigo found himself wondering just what the hell Shinji was up to. Was it good? Was it bad? Would he turn into a Grimmjow number two? The situation was too up-in-the-air to make any assumptions about it just yet, but it didn't keep Ichigo from feeling terrible for his twin. Wasn't it bad enough that he himself had to suffer? Why did Shiro have to go through the same thing? Didn't seem fair.

Then again, that was life at its best.

Ichigo opened the stairwell door and abruptly ran into a familiar face. "Oh, shit! Sorry, Shuu!"

Shuuhei Hisagi, pill-popper extraordinaire, was attending the same university as Ichigo – only he was majoring in Nursing. Ichigo didn't understand it. The guy was high ninety-five percent of the day, the other five percent allowing for the time he slept, unconscious and unaware of his surroundings. How the guy managed to take in such a complex major in that condition went directly over Ichigo's head.

"Where you runnin' to, Ichigo?" Shuuhei asked, head tilted to the side.

"Creative Writing. I have a short story due today. Where you off to?"

"Anatomy," the dark-haired man said with a deep sigh. "We already got a quiz. The professor's a douche."

Ichigo chuckled and shifted the strap of the gray backpack slung over his left shoulder. "That sucks."

"Hey, Ich, you know we haven't hung out since that night at The Lot. Wanna get together tonight or somethin'? It's Friday."

Ichigo actually considered it. He hadn't been out of his apartment to have fun in a while, but he really didn't want to leave Shiro to his own devices during a time when the albino really needed him. And it wasn't like Ichigo would be able to convince his brother to come out with him, no matter how badly Shiro needed it.

"Gimme your number, Shuu. I'll text you or something and let you know."

Shuuhei nodded, a happy glint in his eye as he withdrew his cell from his back pocket. "Yeah, do that. It looks like you can use some down time. Hell, I know _I_ can."

Ichigo grinned as he brought out his own phone and punched in Shuuhei's number as the other man recited it. Once they'd exchanged numbers, Ichigo nodded at Shuuhei and headed off down the hall towards his class. He really wanted to step out and maybe have a few drinks. He wasn't going to smoke; he'd stopped that and had no plans on going back to it. Actually, he was pretty proud of himself for quitting cold turkey the way he had, especially since he'd been such a pothead.

Ichigo entered the large, high ceiling classroom. Ichigo noticed the older, gray-haired professor standing over the podium at the front of the room. He was focused on an open book about the same size of the podium, and Ichigo wondered what it could be. What did the man have planned for today? Ichigo took a seat at a desk towards the top of the inclined room and set his backpack on the floor. He hoped he could get through the class without concerning the professor. The day before yesterday had been completely embarrassing.

**XxxxxX**

Ichigo entered the apartment he shared with his brother and looked around the living room, face slack with stunned dismay. The couch and coffee table were overturned, magazine remains littered the carpet, and the posters that had been decorating the walls were now decorating the floor as well.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo breathed.

He stepped further into the chaos and set his backpack on the only thing that remained untouched, the table near the door where they stashed their keys and other miscellaneous items. His bedroom door was closed, and he hoped that meant that the attack hadn't made its way inside. Shiro was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was in his room?

"Yooo!" Ichigo called, eyes still on what _used_ to be a decently kept sitting room.

No response. Not that he'd really expected one to begin with, but now he was getting nervous. What if something had happened to Shiro? That put wings on Ichigo's feet as he made his way to his twin's bedroom. He stepped over ripped paper and God knew what else, until he stopped in front of Shiro's closed door. Ichigo leaned in and pressed an ear to it, hoping maybe he wouldn't walk in on something that would truly scar him for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, he didn't hear anything. Heart racing and pounding loudly in his chest, he reached forward and grabbed the doorknob. Just as he went to twist it, the door flew open, startling the shit out of him. He stumbled back a few steps and stared at his brother.

Shiro's hair was in disarray, there were dark circles under his eyes – not to mention a nice, black and blue bruise at his temple – and the white tee and green basketball shorts he wore were hanging from his frame as if he'd just gotten the ass-kicking of his life.

"Shiro, what the fuck?" was all Ichigo could manage as he eyed his brother's split bottom lip.

Shiro grinned...maybe. It looked more to Ichigo like a sarcastic sneer. "Oh, hey, King."

Ichigo gave the other man a blank glare. "That's it?" he deadpanned. "You look like someone just curb-stomped your ass, and all you can say to me is 'hey'? Are you outta your fuckin' mind?"

Ichigo really hadn't meant to snap, but he was worried, and it wasn't getting any better. Especially not with his brother standing in front of him looking like a battle-worn veteran and the living room looking no better.

A pained grimace flashed across Shiro's face as he averted his eyes and adjusted the collar of his t-shirt. "Just leave it alone, King."

Ichigo's mouth dropped open. "_What_?" he clipped. Shiro started to speak again, but Ichigo cut him off. He grabbed the front of Shiro's shirt and roughly pulled him into the living room. "Look at this! _Look_ at it!" he snapped.

Shiro scowled over his shoulder at Ichigo. "I see it, dumbass. Lemme go."

"You expect me to ignore all this like it's not right in my fuckin' face?! Are you fuckin' wit' me right now, Shiro?"

"It's nothin'! I'll clean it up, so jus'...jus' leave it _alone_."

Ichigo's face was twisted with disbelief and a small amount of horror. He couldn't believe his own brother thought he was going to let something of this magnitude slide. All of a sudden, his chest felt like it was filling with water – a tell-tale sign that he was about to explode.

"FUCK YOU! TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN HERE, SHIRO!"

Ichigo hadn't expected the resulting stunned look on the albino's face, nor had he expected the abrupt tears running down the sides of his own face. He tried to calm down, but only managed to lower his voice a fraction. However, there was nothing he could do about the emotions careening about inside of him.

"Shiro, please," he started, hands resting on his twin's shoulders. "Just tell me what happened. Please. You're scaring the shit outta me right now."

Ichigo watched the war taking place on Shiro's face. It was obvious his brother really didn't wanna talk about what had occurred in their home, but that was out of the question at this point. There was no way Ichigo was letting him get away without an explanation.

Shiro finally lowered his head and shook it. "Sh-Shin showed up."

"Oh," Ichigo muttered, stunned.

"He uh, he came by and told me he was leavin' fer a bit. Don't know how long it's gonna be, though."

"Damn, Shiro. I'm sorry."

Shiro gave a dry chuckle. "The fuck ya apologizin' for? It ain't yer fault."

Ichigo shrugged, a helpless feeling settling over him. "I know that, but..."

Shit, what the hell was he supposed to say? Ichigo was pretty sure there was nothing he _could_ say that would console his brother. And by the expression Shiro wore, that fact was only cemented.

"Heh," Shiro went on. "I shoulda known, though, ya know? It's not like he's been around lately. Just pissed me off the way he went about it. He came in here actin' like nothin' had ever happened, like he didn't jus' up an' leave without even droppin' off a note 'er somethin'. We got ta arguin', an' then this happened," he said, gesturing towards the destroyed living room and then towards his face.

One thing settled into place for Ichigo as he narrowed his eyes and fought against the surge of anger welling in his chest. "He fucking hit you?"

Shiro looked like a kicked puppy, and Ichigo couldn't stand it. "I hit 'im first. We fought. End a'story."

"End of story my ass," Ichigo snarled. He reached forward and gently grasped his brother's chin, turning it to him. "This doesn't look like the end to any story. _This_ looks like Shinji wants his ass kicked."

"King," Shiro sighed. "Jus' let it go. I know now I was wastin' my time wit' that guy. I don' wanna rub it in."

Ichigo felt like his hands were tied. There was nothing he could do or say that would console Shiro, and frankly, Ichigo didn't even want to try. It would be like rubbing salt over an open wound. He wiped his eyes and looked anywhere but at his sullen brother. He couldn't. He suddenly felt antsy, like he just wanted to do _something_. And then it hit him like a brick to the face.

"Go get cleaned up, Shiro," he said as he went into his back pocket for his cell phone. "You need to get out, an' so do I."

Shiro sucked his teeth and whined like a three-year old. "Aww, King, I don' wanna."

"Shut up! You're comin' out with me and that's that. Now, go get dressed. Take a shower and put somethin' nice on."

"Where the hell we goin'? Not Loop, right?"

Ichigo shook his head as he activated the screen of his phone. "Nah, I don't think so."

"What? Where then?" Shiro persisted.

"Just go get fuckin' dressed!"

With that, Ichigo turned his back and scrolled through his contact list for Shuuhei's number. He had a plan to get good and wasted and make his twin forget about his blond bastard ex-boyfriend for the night.

**XxxxxX**

As soon as they stepped out of Ichigo's car, the ground seemed to vibrate and hum with bass. Ichigo glanced at the warehouse and grinned. He hadn't been to a rave in what felt like years. He'd sent a text to Shuuhei earlier, and the dark-haired man had invited the brothers out to a party. Once he'd given the address, Ichigo had instantly known what kind of party they would be attending. It was perfect. Drinks, drugs and music galore. Not to mention, there would be glow sticks and necklaces everywhere. Like he'd said, it would be perfect for helping Shiro momentarily forget about Shinji. It would also serve as a good distraction for himself. He was sure once he got good and gone, Grimmjow would be the last thing on his mind.

The warehouse was on the very outskirts of town and owned by Shuuhei's boyfriend's father, so they wouldn't have to worry about the police coming and breaking up their chill. Ichigo started towards the entrance, but stopped when he realized Shiro was still standing beside the car.

"C'mon, Shiro. This'll help get you outta your slump for a while."

Shiro rolled his eyes and began moving, his steps obviously reluctant. "King, I don' wanna go in. I ain't in the mood ta party."

"And that's exactly why ya need to go in," Ichigo countered with ease.

There would be no escaping the inevitable for Shiro tonight. The albino could sulk later; right now, they were going to party like the world was ending in the next hour.

Ichigo gripped Shiro's upper arm and dragged him towards the warehouse door, smiling the whole time. "Trust me, Shiro. You're gonna thank me in a few hours."

"I hope so, 'cuz right now, I kinda hate yer guts."

Ichigo chuckled as they came to a stop before the tall man at the door. He was bleached blond and wore his waist-length hair tied back in a low ponytail. A few strands were left hanging around his thin, elegant face, and he had a glow necklace around his neck. He was wearing a tight, white tank, ripped up, stonewashed-blue jeans and white, laceless Vans. Ichigo thought he was pretty as hell, but that was just his opinion.

"You must be Ichigo," the man stated, dark eyes latching onto Ichigo's hair.

Ichigo nodded, and the man gestured for him and Shiro to hold out their wrists. Once they did, the man wrapped neon pink, hospital styled wristbands around them. When he smiled, it was almost breathtaking.

"There you go. Shuu says you guys are supposed to get in free, so enjoy your night," he said.

Although he was so beautiful, his voice was deeper than Ichigo's. Ichigo nodded again and he and Shiro headed inside. They were instantly enveloped by cold smoke and bright neon flashes. Music pounded everywhere, rattling their bones and making Ichigo's heart race. Suddenly, an excited face was right in front of his, grinning and bouncing along to the fast-paced music.

"Yo, you actually made it!" Shuuhei yelled over the music.

Ichigo gave the dark-haired man an enthusiastic grin of his own. "Hell, yeah! I toldja I needed to get out!" Ichigo glanced over his shoulder to make sure Shiro was still beside him and grinned when he saw the albino sporting a sour look. Ichigo turned back to Shuuhei. "Him too!"

Shuuhei nodded and handed over a glow stick and necklace for each of them. He even produced a bottle of water and a small baggy full of multi-colored pills. Ichigo eyed it dubiously. He was all for getting wasted, but not like that.

"Ready to party?" Shuuhei hollered.

Ichigo nodded, but politely refused the water and pills. "Where's the drinks?"

Shuuhei pouted like a kid, but pointed behind him at a bar against the far wall of the warehouse that was lit up with a black light. "We got everything!"

Ichigo was about to respond, when he realized his brother was headed off in that direction already. He shrugged and smirked. "Thanks, Shuu! We'll see ya a little later!"

"Alright! Make sure ya find me! Ren's got the Sour!"

Ichigo nodded, but pursed his lips together as he warred against the temptation to let loose for one night and get high as a star. He danced through the crowd of swaying and gyrating bodies, amused at the expressions of pure abandon that he spotted on most of their faces. He was sure – no make that _positive_ – that most, if not all, were already high on something. That, or drunk. As Ichigo made his way to the other side of the cavernous room, he tuned into the song and immediately felt like dancing. Darude's "Sandstorm" blasted through the speakers, rumbling the walls and floor. It was an oldie but goody. Ichigo threw his necklace over his head and toyed with his glow stick, body already forming a mind of its own.

He was determined to make tonight one to remember.

XOXOXO

Shinji stood on a flower-enclosed balcony and stared over the skyline. He was a bundle of torn up emotions. He was confused, pissed, depressed, a little happy and a lot relieved. It was like being on a see-saw. A week had gone by since he'd been summoned from Shiro's apartment by a tall, silver-haired man named Gin Ichimaru. Well, by Gin's boss, actually. He'd been sure he was headed into some type of elaborate trap, but upon arriving at a huge, beautiful mansion, he'd begun to change his mind. He'd changed his mind all the way after meeting Gin's boss, Javier Yasutora, who also went by the moniker "The Man."

_Shinji stepped into the lavish foyer and had to hide his admiration of the place. He didn't want to let his guard slip, allowing someone to get the drop on him. He was there to figure out what Gin's boss wanted and what exactly he knew about Starrk. That was it. He didn't have time to look around – other than to take in his surroundings in case of an attack. _

_Gin Ichimaru had the strangest poker face: he was always wearing a creepy, toothless grin that unsettled Shinji in the worst way. It was like the man's expression never changed, even when he was pissed. That was dangerous. However, at the moment, Gin was leading Shinji through the foyer and into a large, luxurious kitchen. Again, Shinji didn't pause to admire, he just trooped along behind the silver-haired man as they headed for a pair of glass doors on the other side of the room. There were a couple of lights aside from the pool lights that illuminated a small patio table, where a tall, brown-skinned man sat, nonchalantly puffing on a cigar. He looked like the huge kid that had answered the door a minute ago – only this man was obviously older. _

_Shinji stepped out onto the patio after Gin and stood with his arms folded across his chest. He honestly had no idea what to expect, but figured someone would start talking soon._

_The man at the table glanced up at Shinji and smiled as he set his cigar in a hefty glass ashtray. "Have a seat, Mr. Hirako."_

_Shinji scowled. No, thanks. He'd rather stand until he figured out just what was going on, and he told the man so. The man grinned some more as he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap._

"_I take it you'd like to know why you're here, yes?" Shinji just stared, all too aware of the way Gin posted up a few feet away from the table, hands tucked into his coat pockets. The man at the table nodded and took a careful sip of something brown and sparkling in a short glass. "I was very good friends with your former leader," he finally stated._

_The frown on Shinji's face deepened. So, this little pow-wow really had something to do with Starrk? Better make sure, he thought. "Starrk?"_

_The man nodded. "Yes. Ah, let me introduce myself; how rude of me. I'm Javier Yasutora, but most people know me as 'The Man.' Not very flattering if you ask me," he chuckled._

_He had a Hispanic accent that Shinji couldn't readily place, but it wasn't too thick to hamper anything the man said._

"_C'n I call ya Yasutora, then?" _

_Shinji ignored the swift intake of air coming from his left as the man, Yasutora grinned again. "That's fine. But please, won't you take a seat? No one here intends to harm you."_

_Shinji thought about it and finally decided to sit down. No need to have the atmosphere more uncomfortable than it needed to be. He slid into the white lawn chair across from Yasutora and leaned back in it. He made sure to give the impression that he was completely at ease._

"_Now, then. As I was saying, I was a very good friend of your former leader, Starrk. We were also business partners. I suppose he never mentioned me."_

_Shinji shook his head. Starrk sure as hell hadn't, but then again, Starrk had been careful to keep his business dealings on the low._

"_That's very good. As you know, Starrk had been in charge of the product moving in and out of Crip territory. Of course, he had to have a supplier."_

_Yasutora's words trailed off as he lifted his glass again. Shinji understood all too well what the man was getting at. He had been Starrk's supplier. His connect, so to speak. Made a lot of sense that Starrk hadn't ever mentioned him. No one wanted to give up the identity of their connect; it was bad for business. Especially if business was good._

"_His death was not only a tragedy, but an insult. I'd made it very clear that Starrk was not to be touched, gang rivalry or no. Someone overstepped their bounds."_

"_I don' unnerstan' why ya called me here ta tell me that," Shinji said, a little confused._

_Yasutora set his glass down and rested both hands on the table. His eyes had gone dark and serious. "Not only am I lacking a friend and colleague, but you're family is lacking a leader, no?"_

_A sharp lance of pain speared through Shinji as he thought about his dead best friend. He grimaced and glanced away from Yasutora's piercing gaze. "Y-yeah," he muttered._

"_I know about him too, you know." Shinji's eyes went right back to the man across the table at those words. Yasutora's expression didn't change. "He was like a son to me as well, not just Starrk. We were both friends with his father when we were younger. We'd all gone to high school together."_

"_What?"_

_Shinji was sitting up in his seat by now. If he was hearing correctly – and he was sure he was – Yasutora had just claimed to have been friends with Starrk and Grimmjow's father when he was younger. Had Grimmjow known about that?_

_Yasutora grinned. "J.J. had been our friend from high school and in the last year there, he'd told us he was having a child. No one liked his girlfriend, but love is blind, so J.J. wouldn't listen. There was a lot that went wrong there, but I'm trying to rectify that now. Now that I know where J.J.'s son is."_

_Shinji held up a hand and shook his head. "Wait! I don' mean ta burst yer bubble 'er anythin', but I thought ya said ya knew what happened with Grimm? If tha's the case, then ya know he's dead."_

"_Mmm. That so?"_

_What? Shinji frowned as he stared at Yasutora. Was there something going over his head? Something he was missing? Before he could ask, Yasutora had climbed to his feet and had his hands in his linen pants pockets. _

"_Why don't you follow me, Mr. Hirako."_

_Gin drifted out of the shadows and went to the patio door, where he held it open as Yasutora passed through it. Shinji was baffled, but a small flame of excitement had been ignited with Yasutora's mysterious behavior. He quietly followed the other men through the enormous kitchen, back through the foyer and up a carpeted, spiraling set of stairs. On the second floor, they passed about five doors and stopped at the very end of the hall. Shinji would admit, he was extremely nervous by now. He didn't really know what to expect and hoped like hell it wasn't a trap. He would've walked right into it. But then again, Yasutora seemed like a genuine man. He also seemed like if he had beef with someone, he would deal with it in a straight-laced manner._

_Yasutora gave a few quiet raps to the door and waited, Gin standing beside him, smile still broad and hands still stuffed in his coat pockets. A moment or two passed before the door creaked open. Shinji stood on his toes and tried to see on the other side of the door as Yasutora spoke softly with another person; the voice sounded feminine. Turned out, he didn't have to put forth the extra effort. Gin grinned at Shinji as Yasutora turned back to him and indicated with his hand for Shinji to come forward. The door was held open as they trooped inside and Shinji was able to closely observe the dark-haired woman Yasutora had been speaking with. _

_She had her hair done in a strange style that came together in a braid underneath her chin, but her eyes were kind and warm. She wore a long, black skirt and a pale-green, short-sleeved blouse. Overall, she looked like someone's mom. And then Shinji glanced past her and spied the bed taking up most of the space in the room. He instantly froze, paralyzed with shock and uncertainty._

_What the fuck?_

_A hand on his back jolted him out of his astonishment. He looked into the green-gray eyes of Javier Yasutora and tried to speak, but all that came out was a low grunt. _

"_You can get closer," Yasutora said._

_So...Shinji did. He edged towards the bed until he was standing over it and looking down at a face he'd thought for sure was gone forever. One he wouldn't ever see again. Bright blue hair was spread across a white pillow, dry and a bit longer than Shinji remembered. The skin was no longer the tanned hue it had once been, but was pale and lackluster. Shinji's hand went forward on its own. He reached down and touched his friend's shoulder, just trying to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Just to be sure that he was watching a chest rhythmically rise and fall. _

"_H-he's alive?" he asked._

_The woman answered him as she came closer. "He's perfectly fine. He has a lot of scarring, but he was lucky. In fact, he was awake this morning."_

_Shinji whirled around and stared at the woman. Was she serious? "Was he talking?"_

_The woman chuckled. "Oh-ho, yes. He demanded water, and although he can't really handle solids right now, he made a few orders for food as well."_

_Shinji's hand tightened on Grimmjow's shoulder as he fought against the prickling behind his eyes. A low grunt startled him into letting go as he glanced back at the blue-haired man on the bed. Grimmjow's head rolled in Shinji's direction, a scowl pulled across his brow._

"_Whaaaat the fuuuuck," the taller man groaned as blue eyes fluttered open. "Retsu, stop pokin' me wit' shit."_

_Shinji just stared as he lost the battle against his tears. "Yo," he managed when Grimmjow's eyes landed on his face. _

_Grimmjow blinked a couple of times, then tried to sit up. The woman rushed forward and put her hands on his shoulders to keep him down as she fussed over him. Shinji chuckled and discreetly wiped his eyes. Grimmjow would be Grimmjow, even on the brink of death._

"_You just woke up from your wounds! Don't go tearing them already!" the woman scolded._

_Grimmjow growled and tried to swat her hands away, but he was clearly too weak to get his arms to do what he wanted since they fell right back to the bed. _

"_Retsu, I ain't an invalid!" he snapped, blue eyes fiery._

_Shinji was just glad to see those eyes again, period. _

_The woman, Retsu, huffed and tapped Grimmjow on the forehead. "You sure look like one to me."_

"_Still an ornery bastard, I see," Shinji teased as he watched Grimmjow argue with the older woman. _

_With that, the fussing and arguing came to an abrupt stop as Grimmjow stared at him. Then, he smirked, the right side of his mouth lifting slightly._

"_Didn't know I was s'posed ta change," the deep voice rumbled. "How'd ya find me?"_

_The smile left Shinji's face as Yasutora stepped forward. "I told him."_

_Grimmjow spared a glance for Yasutora before turning his attention back to Shinji."How ya doin'?" he asked._

_Shinji took a deep breath and shrugged. "Doin' a lot better knowin' my best friend ain't as dead as I thought he was."_

_Grimmjow nodded and lowered his gaze, brow creased in obvious thought. "What about...?" he started._

"_He's good. I think. I mean, he's fucked up in the head thinkin' yer dead an' shit, but he ain't physically hurt 'er nothin'."_

"_Good. I gotta see him when I get outta here."_

_Yasutora interjected yet again. "I'm afraid that will have to wait."_

_Shinji watched as his best friend's expression grew murderous. Yasutora had no idea what he was doing by denying Grimmjow the one thing he wanted at the moment._

"_I hate ta break it to ya, but I ain't gonna lay here forever, an when I get up, I got shit ta do. One of 'em's makin' sure my...my guy ain't out there thinkin' I'm dead."_

_Shinji smiled at the complete one-eighty Grimmjow had made in the love department. It was obvious how much he cared about Ichigo. Hell, he'd gone and "died" for the kid's safety. But here Yasutora was, trying to throw a wrench into the blue-haired man's operation. Grimmjow wasn't going to tolerate that shit._

"_I understand that, but there's something I would ask of you before you return to your former life," Yasutora continued._

_Grimmjow looked like he was seriously considering it, and it took a while for Shinji to understand why. Grimmjow hated to be in anyone's debt, and since it was apparent he'd been saved and put under Retsu's care by Yasutora, that was clearly where he was._

"_What is it?" Grimmjow finally grumbled, turning his head away and studying the ceiling._

"_I need you to take care of something for me in Colombia. You do that, and I can guarantee you the life you want with your guy."_

_Shinji's head whipped around at that. Did Yasutora mean what Shinji thought he did?_

"_What are you talkin' about?" Grimmjow asked, head turned back in Yasutora's direction._

"_I have a group of men in Colombia who suffer from lack of leadership, since the man I had on the job decided it would be a good idea to disappear with some of my product and money. Not very wise, I can assure you. However, I'm only asking you to keep them in line until I finish grooming my son for the job. There are a few other things I need him to know before he can take the reins. If you do this for me, upon your return, I can guarantee you can live freely, without the pressure of gang life. I'm sure that's what you want with your guy, am I right?"_

_Grimmjow stared at the ceiling again as Shinji looked on. Yasutora had hit him with a mouthful, that was for sure. Was Grimmjow actually thinking about leaving their gang family behind? Especially without a leader? What had happened to Starrk's request? Was Grimmjow just going to abandon that? As soon as the thought formed in Shinji's mind, Grimmjow sighed._

"_I can't just up an' leave my family like that. I-I gotta responsibility ta-"_

_Yasutora nodded. "I'm aware. But did you know Starrk had been on the verge of retiring before he died? He had no intentions of passing the reins to you; you were only chosen because you were there, and you were only supposed to be in position temporarily. I know who he really wanted to leave the family to."_

_That made both Shinji and Grimmjow exchange frowns with one another. Then, they turned back to Yasutora wearing twin expressions of confusion._

"_What? Who was it s'posed ta be?" Grimmjow asked._

"_That I can't say right now. Just know, when the time comes, you have the option to live a normal life, something most gang members aren't lucky enough to have."_

_Grimmjow went quiet again, and Shinji had something on his mind as well. If Grimmjow accepted and went to Colombia, then what would Shinji do? He wasn't about to let his best friend leave his sight again, especially not to another country. Not only that, but when Grimmjow returned, what if he did decide to live a regular life with Ichigo? Where would that leave Shinji? He didn't want to leave Shiro. He loved Shiro. Shit. He knew one thing, though._

"_Grimm," he called._

_Grimmjow glanced over at him, and it was like the man already knew what Shinji was thinking. He nodded. "I wanna go. I don't wanna do this shit anymore, an' Ichigo deserves better than what I put him through already."_

_Shinji nodded in return. "Then, I'm comin' witcha."_

Which led him to where he was now. He was at Yasutora's mansion, waiting for Grimmjow to fully recover, so they could make their way to Colombia. Shinji had come to the conclusion that he wanted the same thing Grimmjow did. He wanted to spend his life with Shiro without looking over his shoulder all the time. Without having Shiro looking over his shoulder all the time, either. Shiro had just started school again and had plans to make his life better than the big party it once was. Shinji didn't want to interfere with that; hell, he wanted to enhance it. He wanted to stand next to Shiro and not feel guilty for bringing the man down.

He didn't think it was possible now, though.

He hadn't actually gone about being a model boyfriend to Shiro once he'd found out Grimmjow was still alive. He'd disappeared and hadn't gone back to Shiro's place the whole week. Not until earlier that evening, anyway. Shinji shook his head and rubbed the space between his eyebrows, frustrated. He'd only meant to tell Shiro that he had some shit to take care of, but that he'd be back and they'd be able to be together like before...but _better_. Before Shinji could get out the good news, Shiro had punched him in the nose. Shit hurt too, the little fucker.

Shinji touched the bridge of his nose and winced. It was still sore and sporting a dark bruise. After that hit, shit had spiraled downhill. Shiro had continued hitting him fiercely, until Shinji had been forced to fight back in order to save his face. He'd only hit Shiro back a couple times to get the guy to back off of him, but damn had it killed him. He'd left the apartment after that. He could still hear Shiro yelling at him not to show his face there anymore.

Shinji gave a dry chuckle and rubbed his throat, valiantly fighting the stinging behind his eyes. He'd gone and fucked up his happily ever after before it could even happen.

A soft swishing from behind alerted him to another presence on the balcony. He kept his gaze forward, not ready to talk about what had happened earlier, but leave it to Grimmjow to see right through him.

"'Sup?" the taller man asked as he leaned against the iron balcony railing.

Shinji glanced over at him before turning and focusing on the sky once more. "Nothin'," he lied.

Grimmjow snorted. "Uh-huh. Tell me another one."

Shinji turned and watched as Grimmjow gingerly rubbed a hand over his stitched up wounds. The one on his right arm, his right shoulder, his left arm, his chest right below the shoulder wound, and lastly the stitched wound on his head. The hair above his temple was shaved until the head wound could heal properly, giving the blue-haired man a punk look. Shinji snorted in return.

"Shiro broke up with me, I think."

Grimmjow's eyebrows flew upwards. "Ya went over there? Fuck were ya thinkin'?"

"I was thinkin' I wanted ta see him before we went to Colombia. Didn' really work out how I'd hoped, though."

"Yeah, no shit. It's gonna be hell tryin' ta get 'em back when we come home. Ichigo might even move on," Grimmjow muttered, eyes on the buildings in the distance. "He thinks I'm dead an' all."

"Yeah, but as much as he loves ya, all he's gotta do is see ya once and yer back in his good graces," Shinji said bitterly.

It would be easier for Grimmjow, just because Ichigo thought he was dead. Shinji was alive, so Shiro thought he just didn't want to be bothered. Shinji hung his head again.

"Dammit," he growled.

Grimmjow went quiet for a minute before he finally placed a hand on Shinji's shoulder. "I fuckin' almos' killed Ichigo an' he still loves me. I'm sure Shiro will listen ta reason when we come back."

Shinji didn't really think so, but nodded anyway. He hoped Grimmjow was right.

**So, after a discussion with my wonderful beta, Junichiblue, I figured I would go ahead and tell you guys not to have those kittens _just_ yet. I do plan to take you through Grimmjow's recovery from his POV, as well as Unohana's reaction from her POV. So, relax and hopefully continue to enjoy the story.**

**Next time...**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

**One Week Ago**

The dark-haired man with glasses backed away from the bed and turned to Retsu Unohana, who stood on the opposite side, hands wringing and brow furrowed.

"He's fine as far as I can tell. He lost a lot of blood, but the transfusion fixed that. With the IV and some rest, he'll be OK. He has a bunch of scarring and might be in a lot of pain when he wakes up, but he was extremely lucky. Damned idiot..." the man trailed off as he gave his attention to the blue-haired man on the bed.

There was a wealth of admiration and exasperation packed into that last word. _Completely understandable_, Retsu thought as she fought the urge to reach down and stroke the hair of the figure resting on the bed. After enduring six gunshot wounds, one could definitely label the man's fortune as lucky. In fact, it was a miracle he was even still alive.

Retsu sighed and rubbed a hand over her heart. "Si, si, that's very good news. I was so afraid for him."

The man gave her a long look and tilted his head to the side. "Do you know him?"

"You can say that. I knew him when he was a child."

"Hmm. Makes sense now."

"He was like a son to me. I really wanted to take him in when his parents passed, but he disappeared into the system before I could. I'm just happy to see him now," Retsu said with a wistful glance at the bed again.

The dark-haired man ambled over to the window and stared through it. He stood like that for a while before speaking into the silence.

"I heard his parents were killed when he was a kid."

"Yes, unfortunately. Poor thing."

"How did they die?"

Retsu paused as she lowered her eyes to the floor. She recalled being in her living room the night Grimmjow's parents had been killed. She'd been sipping from a mug of spearmint and chamomile tea and reading a book, when the sound of gunshots rang out in the neighborhood. Scared, she'd jumped from the couch and crawled to the window to peer through the blinds. All she remembered seeing were two men leaving Grimmjow's home and disappearing into the night in a black sedan. After that, everything had just been a big blur, where the police and the coroner had arrived, and Grimmjow was taken away.

"They were killed by two men. I don't know why exactly, but it may have been drug related," she explained, eyes still on the floor.

"Aahh, that makes even more sense," the dark-haired man commented.

"Um..." Retsu trailed off, unable to recall the man's name. He must've registered the silence because he glanced over his shoulder and gave her a little grin.

"I'm Uryuu, and my partner's name is Szayel."

"Ah! The man with the pink hair, yes?"

"Mhm. We've got some experience in the medical field."

Retsu nodded, grateful for the stroke of luck. But then again, Javier would have settled for nothing less. As she gazed down at the head of blue hair resting on a stark white pillow, she gave in to temptation and ran her hand through the dry locks. He would need to have it washed and moisturized soon. Maybe she would be able to do it that evening after she changed the sheets.

Uryuu shuffled his feet, drawing her attention. She watched him take a quick look at the watch on his left wrist and lifted her chin in acknowledgment when he gave her his attention.

"I'm gonna go now, Miss Unohana."

"Call me Retsu. And thank you for helping him."

Uryuu smiled as he made his way to the bedroom door. "Not a problem. He's my friend too."

Retsu smiled as she followed his progress from the room with her eyes. Once he'd left with a quiet "Good night," she turned her focus to the young man on the bed. He was sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly but steadily. The relief was sharp and acute – almost overwhelming. When Grimmjow had first been brought in, she'd been bowled over with shock, but then, after seeing the state he was in, she'd been sick with worry. Now, knowing he would be fine, she felt much better.

She let her fingers toy with a few strands of the bright blue tresses hanging over his brow as she just enjoyed being able to look at him up close and personally again. Her maternal instincts kicked in the longer she watched him. She had her one wish come true, and since she'd never had kids of her own, it was even more profound. She sat for a few more quiet minutes before standing and going to the door. She had to fix dinner for Javier and his son, but afterward, she would return to continue caring for Grimmjow.

**XxxxxX**

After changing the sheets on Grimmjow's bed, she went into the connecting bathroom to fill a basin with warm water. She intended to keep her self-made promise to wash and condition the man's hair; she hated how dry and lifeless it felt. She went back into the bedroom and set the basin on the night table beside the bed, then turned to Grimmjow. He was still sleeping, and his bandages were fresh. She hoped he was comfortable. She made to maneuver his upper body towards the side of the bed, but jumped with fright when he groaned and turned his head away. She stood staring for what felt like forever, heart racing madly and hands wringing. She held her breath as Grimmjow grunted and grimaced, eyelids fluttering as if they were on the verge of blinking open.

And just like that, they did.

Blue eyes that she remembered from her past, glared at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged their owner. Then, they turned in her direction, making her go even stiller. She was afraid to move, think, breathe. She didn't know what to do. Would he remember her? If he did, would he be glad to see her again, the way she was overjoyed to see him? Or would he be indifferent? Even worse, what if he _didn't_ remember her? She had to admit that she would be disappointed to the point of devastation.

Grimmjow watched her like she was a lion prowling beside the bed, ready to jump and devour him at any second. After a few moments, however, the blue eyes softened, even though the slight scowl kept his brows pulled together.

"Miss Unohana?" a deep, but still familiar voice rasped.

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes as she smiled and nodded. He remembered her. She couldn't think past her happiness, left speechless and battling her emotions.

Grimmjow looked around the room before letting his attention fall back on her. "Where am I?"

She didn't want to seem like she was ignoring him, so she cleared her throat and said, "This is my employer's home. He brought you here to recover from your wounds."

He looked down at his body as if he hadn't even realized he'd been shot six times. She watched as his eyes slid shut and his head settled onto the pillow again. He seemed to be deep in thought about something, so she let him have his moment, patiently waiting for him to speak again. She was just glad that he was speaking to begin with – that he wasn't fatally wounded.

"How long have I been here?" he finally asked, eyes still shut.

"Just a couple of days. Your friends were helping with your care."

His eyes snapped open as he looked in her direction. "What friends?"

He seemed wary, but she was quick to assure him that none of his enemies knew where he was. He listened carefully before closing his eyes again, this time wincing as he did so.

"I have painkillers for you," she hurriedly said as she crossed to the dresser on the opposite side of the room. "Your friend, Uryuu, said to give them to you when you woke up."

When she turned back to Grimmjow, he was sitting up and trying his damnedest to get out of the bed. Retsu almost dropped the pills she'd shaken into her hand as she rushed to his side.

"You can't do that!" she yelped. Even though Grimmjow gave her a scathing glare, she still put her hands on his broad shoulders and pushed him back. "You're too injured to get out of bed just yet!"

Grimmjow sucked his teeth and went to brush her hands away, but his arms fell back to his sides. Instead of listening to the signs his body was trying to give him, he growled at her, jaws clenched together tightly.

"Miss Unohana-"

"Call me Retsu. And _lay down!_ I'm not letting you out of this bed, so arguing with me is no good."

"...Retsu, I'm a grown man now. If I wanna get up, tha's what I'ma do."

"Nonsense! I say you're not going anywhere, and I mean that, young man," she said in her sternest voice, eyes serious and motherly. They battled with their gazes for a few moments, until Grimmjow's blue one went soft with affectionate defeat. He didn't say anything, still stubborn, but he also no longer protested when she gently pushed him back down. "Now stay there until I get you a glass of water."

Once she was sure he was lying beneath the sheet and not trying to make another escape, she hurried from the bedroom, completely ecstatic and feeling as though she could walk on air.

XOXOXO

He felt like he was waking from a hard night of partying. His mouth was dry, his body was excruciatingly sore, and his brain felt like it was seconds from pounding through his skull. Not only that, but someone was moving him. Either that, or he was feeling things. It took him a few tries to get his eyes to open, but once they did, he found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It didn't even look like a hospital room. There were no blinding, white lights, no sterile smells – not even the faint feeling of impending doom. Where the hell was he, then? He didn't remember anything after being shot on the stairs of the church where Di Roy's funeral had been held.

A sharp pain lanced through his chest and settled over his heart. Actually, the last thing he _really_ remembered was looking into the horrified brown eyes of the one man he'd decided to trust with his heart since having it trampled years ago. He'd never meant to cause Ichigo that much pain, but he refused to see the guy killed because of _him_. Because of the hard life _he_ lived. After receiving a call from a private number that morning while Ichigo had been in the shower, Grimmjow had known that his time was limited. He hadn't wanted to skip Di Roy's funeral since he'd had every intention of paying his respects to the youngster who'd thought of him as an older brother; and then, there was the fact that he hadn't wanted to alert Shinji or Ichigo to the fly in the ointment.

So, he'd gone to the church, feeling as though his heart was in his mouth. He never wanted Ichigo to be hurt – Shinji either – and in order to avoid that happening, he'd had to go along with the program as if nothing were wrong. Ichigo had been able to tell something was off, though, and Grimmjow hadn't been able to blame him. After seeing Tousen drive down the block in a dark car, dark shades covering his eyes, Grimmjow's gut had been flipping like crazy. Luckily, no one else had noticed the guy. During Di Roy's service, Grimmjow had been battling with a truckload of emotions. Grief, guilt, apprehension, fear, anger: all of those had been making him restless and sidetracked. What he'd really wanted to do was go out and meet Tousen head-on. Kill the fucker, and keep it moving. But there was no way he'd have been able to do some shit like that in front of Ichigo. He probably would've scared the hell out of the orange-haired man, and that was the last thing he wanted at this point.

When all had been said and done, he'd ended up confronting Tousen on the stairs of the church in order to save Ichigo. Grimmjow's stomach rolled, and his heart felt like it was trying to climb his esophagus. His mind went back to the look on Ichigo's face that day. Damn, he'd never be able to forget it.

He suddenly realized that he wasn't alone wherever he was and turned his head to find out who was keeping him company. The person he saw was the last person he'd been expecting. Miss Unohana stood next to the bed, hands clenched together and eyes wide with shock. Even though he hadn't seen the woman in years, she still looked the same. Maybe a few added laugh lines in the corners of her eyes, but that was about it. Her hair was still dark as ink, her eyes still kind and patient. And when she spoke, her voice was still mellow and maternal.

**XxxxxX**

At the moment, Retsu was seated beside his bed, having already scolded him for trying to leave it. He couldn't believe he was still alive after being shot six times. But he couldn't say he wasn't happy as hell. Now he could recover and go find Ichigo, whom he was sure believed the worst of the situation.

"You've gotten so much like your father."

Grimmjow turned his head and looked at Miss Unohana – no, Retsu – with a small frown. It wasn't that he didn't remember his father, nor that he actually hated the man. He just didn't _like_ remembering him. Sure, there were good times that had been shared between father and son, but Grimmjow's thoughts were always overtaken by the bad memories. He always recalled his tall, strong father being strung out on heroin, shooting up in the corner of whatever room of the house had been designated for that particular activity for the evening. Or morning. Or afternoon. It never mattered what time of the day it was.

"_Daddy, what's that?"_

"_Mind yer bizness, boy. Go on back to yer room."_

_Grimmjow scowled and poked out his bottom lip. "No. Miss Unohana said playing with needles is bad. How come you're doing it?"_

_His father lifted his head and paused from tying an elastic tourniquet to his upper left arm. His blue eyes were glassy with need and desperation, and his lips were pursed into a tight, little ball. _

"_I toldja to mind yer bizness, didn' I?"_

"_But Dad-"_

"_Grimmjow, I ain't gonna tell you again. Quit back-talkin' me."_

_With that, his father's head lowered, jet-black hair falling over his forehead. Grimmjow took a step forward, intent on stopping his father somehow, but was yanked back by the collar of his pajama shirt._

"_Didn't your father tell you to go to your room, stupid kid? Why don't you ever listen?"_

_His mother was standing behind him, face contorted with rage and nostrils flared wide. Times like these, Grimmjow really couldn't stand the woman. It wasn't like she was the best mother anyway, but when she got all pissed the way she was now, it really made him dislike her. It was her fault his father was on drugs in the first place. The kids at school always made fun of him and called his parents "junkies" and "crackheads," and it was beginning to make him overly defensive. It didn't help any, either, that his parents actually supported the accusations with their actions._

_Grimmjow jerked roughly away from his mother's cruel grasp and whirled around to face her. _

"_It's your fault my Daddy is like this!" he screamed. "He doesn't even take me to school and get me ice cream anymore!"_

_His mother's face went pale as she stood staring down at him. Then, without warning, she hauled off and smacked him right across his left cheek. The sound was sharp and seemed to echo in the silence of the living room. The slap stung, but not more than the anger and resentment that was currently coursing through every part of his body. He glared at her, hands balled into tight fists and jaws clenched together. He wanted to hit her back, but his father had taught him otherwise. _

"_Rachel."_

_His father's voice was deep and demanding, even with just one word. Grimmjow's mother was still wearing a furious face, but she lowered her hand to her side and glanced at the man seated on the floor. _

"_He deserved it," she spat. "Talking to me like that."_

"_Be quiet. Grimmjow, go to your room. I'll be up there to talk to you in a minute."_

_Grimmjow gave his father an over-the-shoulder, helpless look before running off towards the stairs. All he could think of was how much his father had changed and how much he absolutely loathed his own mother._

Grimmjow grimaced and averted his eyes from Retsu's affectionate gaze. He was only able to reply to her statement with a low, pained grunt. He hated his mother, but he mourned for his father. He grieved for the man who had raised him the best he could until the drugs had taken hold of him. The hurt was still miles deep.

"It's OK, sweetheart. Your father loved you very much, you know."

He knew.

"Yeah," he muttered as he shut his eyes. He really didn't want to think about his father right now. "Retsu, can I get some water? Throat's kinda dry."

He didn't want to admit that thinking of his old man had caused a lump to form there. But Retsu wasn't blind, nor was she stupid. However, she _was_ considerate and rose from her seat with a small nod.

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Grimmjow remained silent as he rested against a plush white pillow. Retsu had given him a couple of painkillers, so he wasn't hurting as much as he was when he'd first awakened. Not physically anyway. Emotionally, though? Yeah, he was in a world of pain. Thoughts of his father made it hard to think of anything else, but when he _did_ manage to wrap his mind around a different subject, it landed on Ichigo. He missed the orange-haired man. It took a lot for him to admit that to himself, but it was undeniably true. He just wanted to get out of there and go find the man. Let him know he wasn't gone forever. Hell, Grimmjow hoped Ichigo would be able to find it within himself to forgive him. He was sure the guy probably thought he'd gone and died on purpose or something.

Grimmjow grinned a bit. _Ichigo _would_ think something ridiculous like that, wouldn't he?_ he thought.

He stared up at the ceiling and frowned. He'd told Ichigo he loved him. Doing so had scared the shit out of him, but at the time, Ichigo had been behaving so stubbornly. The idiot hadn't believed a word he'd been saying, and, of course, had been thinking the worst. Grimmjow had had no choice but to clear the air. Now, the guy probably thought he was dead. Again, Grimmjow grimaced. He covered his eyes with the back of his right hand.

_Don't worry, Ichigo. I'll come find you soon._

XOXOXO

**Present**

Tousen felt like any moment now, and he would shit a brick. He was standing in the middle of Aizen's office, the man's right-hand officer holding up the wall beside him. Ulquiorra's eyes were unfocused, but Tousen could tell the man was more alert than a mouse listening for a predator. The floor felt like it was miles away – like he was suspended in midair. He was so uncomfortable, but he knew better than to fidget in front of his leader.

"I hear you've had a problem at one of the locations," Aizen said quietly.

Tousen swallowed harshly and nodded. "I took care of it already, though."

"So, I've heard."

A few beats of silence passed with the two men staring one another down before Aizen nodded and steepled his fingers under his chin.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again. I don't have to tell you what will occur if it does, do I?"

Tousen fought the urge to shake his head vehemently and instead only shook it once.

"No, Sir."

"Good. You may leave."

Tousen gave a hurried courtesy nod and left the room like a large dog was on his heels. He'd never wanted to leave a place so badly in his life. As he made his way to the building's exit, his mind went back to the conversation he'd had on the phone earlier.

"_Who this?"_

_A distorted voice came through the speaker again._

"_Don't worry about who this is. Just know your time is limited, motherfucker. You think those robberies are done? Nah, we're just getting started. Stay tuned."_

_Tousen pulled the phone away from his ear and yelled into the receiver. "Fuck you! You don't put fear in my heart! See me in the trap, pussy!"_

_He disconnected the call, heart pumping and hands shaking. He'd managed to sound confident and arrogant even, but inside, he was scared to death. He was already in hot water because of that first knock-over; he so didn't need another one added to it._

He'd tried tracing the call, but it had come through as private, making pinpointing the culprit virtually impossible. He huffed as he jogged to his car in the lot behind the building. He had too many runs, too many moves to make to stand still and wonder who was threatening his operation. If the idiot was crazy enough to play the same card twice, then it would be child's play getting rid of him/her.

_Fuck 'em_.

XOXOXO

Tatsuki snickered as she set her phone in the cup-holder of the middle console of the car. She exchanged amused glances with Nel, Yoruichi and Halibel before turning on the engine.

"Fuckin' dumbass," she muttered. "You guys ready to hit the next spot?"

Nel gave a wide grin and leaned over the head rest of the driver's seat. "Let's go, bitch. What we waitin' on?"

"My point exactly," Yoruichi commented through a long yawn.

Tatsuki turned to look at the blonde in the back seat in time to see her shoving a full clip into a nine millimeter Glock. Halibel's gemstone-green eyes locked onto her as she smirked.

"I'm ready when you are, gyal."

Tatsuki faced forward and put the gear in drive. "Say no more."

They had another job to do.

XOXOXO

Ichigo swayed through the darkened warehouse, having lost sight of his brother almost an hour ago. He knew Shiro was somewhere around though, so he wouldn't worry until it was time for them to leave. Laser lights pulsed along the walls and floor, glowing necklaces, gloves and sticks seemed to float in the blackness like electrically charged ghosts, and bass pummeled the surroundings like it was trying to free itself from the building.

It was beautiful.

Ichigo had been dancing through the place like a maniac after getting a few drinks in him, and now he was combing the place for Shuuhei. The dark-haired man had told him to meet on the other side of the large room in order to roll up. Yes, Ichigo knew he was going against the rules he'd set for himself, but he figured smoking once in a while couldn't hurt anything.

As he progressed through the crowd, he bumped into body after body, but he was buzzing from a few cups of some type of white liquor he hadn't bothered to catch the name of, so at the moment, he didn't really feel anything except the driving bass that was steadily putting him in a trance. His body moved on its own to the beat of DHT's remake of "Listen To Your Heart." He'd come to enjoy himself and so he was.

The next body he bumped into belonged to Shuuhei's red-haired, on-again, off-again boyfriend, Renji Abarai. Renji had on a white A-shirt that fit his torso like a leather glove, black cargo pants and black boots. He looked down at Ichigo with a charming grin after being bumped.

"Yo, Ichigo! What's up?"

"Nothin' much. Where's Shuu?"

Renji craned his neck as he searched the room, even though he already stood a head above mostly everyone.

"I think he's over there by that table!" he shouted over the music.

Ichigo followed the direction Renji's long finger was pointing and nodded.

"Thanks!"

He bopped over to a medium-sized, round table that was pushed into a corner of the room, where Shuuhei sat dancing in his seat, dark eyes bright with only God knew what. Ichigo plopped into the seat beside his friend and grinned as the man turned to him, obviously surprised.

"Oh, Ichigo!" he hollered. "Almost forgot you were comin'!"

"Prob'ly cuz you're high as hell. Where's the Sour?"

Shuuhei leaned over a little and dug around in the right pocket of his pants. After a few seconds of that, he withdrew a sandwich-sized Ziploc bag full of marijuana. Ichigo's mouth almost started watering at the sight. He didn't realize how much he'd missed smoking until the substance was right before his eyes.

"Oh-ho, yes," he mumbled as he took the bag from Shuuhei. "Ya got something to roll up with?"

Shuuhei arched a dark brow and folded his arms over his chest. "I don't roll up, Ich. Besides, I think Ren's got a hookah 'round here somewhere. We can just put it in that and get lifteeeeed!"

Ichigo chuckled as he brought the bag up to his nose and inhaled deeply. The smell of Sour was potent and coming clean through the plastic. He'd never smoked weed from a hookah before, but he'd heard it got you even higher than smoking a blunt would.

_First time for everything_, he thought.

A warm presence at his left side made him turn in his seat. Renji was smiling at him again, but this time something seemed to be hidden in that grin that made the hairs on Ichigo's arms rise. Without a word, his eyes went to the strange contraption Renji had set on the table. It was silver and mint-green, and had a long, clear tube connected to it.

_So, this is a hookah_.

Shuuhei leaned across him and started preparing it, while Ichigo made it his business to avoid eye contact with a guy he'd previously thought was smoking hot. Don't get him wrong – Renji was still a sexy dude, but Ichigo couldn't think of any other man that way anymore. Whenever he did, his mind was drawn back to bright blue hair, cornflower blue eyes and a slow, mischievous grin. He shook his head and lightly smacked the sides of his face.

Not now.

He was so busy watching Shuuhei getting the hookah ready, he didn't realize Renji was handing him a drink.

"Ever have a Nutcracker, Ichigo?" the red head asked.

Ichigo shook his head. "Nah, I haven't. Is it any good?"

"Yeah, it is. I think you'll like it."

Ichigo eyed the tall glass filled with a neon green drink for a few seconds before accepting it with a shrug. Whatever. He was there to get wasted anyway. He took a deep swallow of the drink and licked his lips afterward, eyebrows raised with pleased surprise.

"This is good!"

Renji chuckled as he nodded and lifted his own glass. "Toldja. Drink up, Ichigo."

He was almost finished with his Nutcracker when Shuuhei passed him the hookah.

"Woo!" the dark-haired man shouted as he shook his head back and forth. "That feels like sex!"

Renji snorted into his glass, russet eyes bright with amusement and devilment. "Liar," he drawled.

Shuuhei returned the look as Ichigo just shook his head. He took a long, hefty pull from the hookah, and his head immediately went light. Holy shit, that was some potent stuff. He took another, smaller pull and relaxed against the back of his seat.

He was going to be _so_ roasted.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

**One Week Later**

"_Throw it up, throw it up...watch it all fall out. Pour it up, pour it up...that's how we ball out. Throw it up, throw it up...watch it all fall out. Pour it up, pour it up...that's how we ball out."_

As Rihanna crooned in the background about dollar signs and money on her mind, Crystal had her left leg hiked up over the arm of the couch in the upstairs room of the club, Tousen – or T as he liked to be called – aggressively driving himself in and out of her. She grimaced deeply, even as she feigned a loud, wanton moan. She couldn't wait until he got off; that way, she'd be able to clean herself up and hopefully see her girlfriend.

She hadn't seen Genevieve in almost a week, and the distance was killing her. Crystal understood that the silver-haired woman was busy with work, but she missed her. She missed the woman's mischievous smirks and snappy retorts. She missed the woman's touches and kisses. She missed the way Genevieve would whisper in her ear, and the hushed words would immediately relax and loosen her up. She missed all of it.

Crystal was used to reporting in to Genevieve's twin brother, Gin, who was also her boss, but her job was growing tiresome: sleeping with Tousen, spying on him and eavesdropping on any phone conversations he had. She was ready to be done with the whole sordid ordeal, however, she knew better. She didn't want to piss off her girlfriend, and on top of everything else, she needed the money desperately. Her rent was two months overdue, and she'd been ducking her landlord for two weeks straight. She refused to tell Genevieve about her financial woes because other halves tended to feel as though you owed them if they gave their help. At least, that's what she'd experienced in her past relationships.

She liked Genevieve too much to let that happen to the two of them.

A sudden, rough yank on her hair made her cry out in pain – a cry that she automatically disguised as one of intense pleasure. Tousen had been gradually becoming more and more sadistic with the way he had sex with her in the past week. She figured it had something to do with the recent string of robberies in the dark-haired man's territories. Each time Tousen had dropped by to unwind, he'd been in a foul mood. He would sullenly sip his Remy and smoke a blunt before rudely ordering her to either suck him off, or let him fuck her. Internally, she was tired of the man's shit, but she ignored her own feelings in order to get her job done.

"Fuck! I'm 'bout ta cum," he growled from behind.

Crystal cheered in her mind. She began moving her hips in time to his painful thrusts, just to make him finish faster. Her plan worked. Tousen gripped her generous hips and moved faster and faster, harder and harder, until he surged forward one last time, moaning lavishly. She pretended to sag her shoulders in euphoric bliss, when in reality, they sagged with relief. She lowered her leg once Tousen had withdrew from inside of her. Afterward, she eased down onto the couch and watched him remove the condom he wore before he threw it in the trash on the other side of the room. Tousen wouldn't be a bad guy if he wasn't such a fucking jerk. Not that she would be interested.

The gangster seemed to think about what he'd done because he reached into the trash can, retrieved the condom and carried it to the bathroom, where he proceeded to flush it down the toilet. He took time to clean up before he headed back into the room and over to his clothes. His cell phone was on the table beside the couch, and right as he slipped his bright red t-shirt over his head, it started vibrating and ringing.

Crystal climbed to her feet and headed for the vacated bathroom. She had to settle for a small cleanup until Tousen took his leave, but her sole purpose for entering the bathroom in the first place was to eavesdrop in peace. There had been a couple of times where she'd almost been caught because he'd seen her either looking at him, or being a bit too conspicuous in the same room. Now, she knew better. The bathroom was her haven – her office, so to speak. It made her feel safe from the often volatile man's wrath and dark, piercing eyes.

She stepped into the small room and shut the door, until about only three inches of space was left between it and the door frame. She used the toilet and washed her hands, all the while listening out for anything of importance in Tousen's conversation.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he shouted.

She smiled. Sounded like trouble. _Again_.

"What the fuck?! I _told_ you to fuckin' up the security at all the spots! Why are we still bein' fuckin' robbed?" Tousen paused, making Crystal peer through the crack into the other room. The man was pacing the floor, almost fully dressed; he was only missing the sneakers he'd come in with. He plowed a hand through his long hair and groaned agitatedly. "Shorty, I don' wanna _hear_ that shit! I gave ya'll specific instructions to follow, an' ya _didn't_! Now, I'm _fucked_! This is the _sixth_ robbery in a week! _A week!_ You might as well bury my ass, cuz Aizen's gonna kill me!"

Crystal hid a snicker as she enjoyed the look of sheer panic written all over Tousen's face. It was hard since she held such a profound amount of distaste for the guy, but somehow she managed. She wet a hand towel with cool water and ran it over her face. Obviously, there had been another robbery. She stored the information away so she could relay it to Gin once Tousen left.

XOXOXO

"Kids these days," Tatsuki clucked as she hopped into her black SUV. "They'll do anything for a little bit of change, apparently."

Halibel chuckled from the back seat, while Nel snorted. Yoruichi grinned from the passenger seat, but she never lifted her head from the large, hunter-green duffel bag she held in her lap. Her dainty hand rifled through the stacks of cash and clear, plastic bags of cocaine and dope. They had racked up about a quarter million dollars, another score that was ready for the safe.

"I can't believe how stupid these guys are," Nel mumbled. She cracked her gum and smacked loudly before continuing. "I mean, the runners let us pay them off ta knock over their stash. Not only that, but they have no fuckin' loyalty either. Not the way they were talkin' trash 'bout Tousen. He's _obviously_ not the most popular guy in the gang."

Halibel chuckled, and Tatsuki heard the sound of a gun clip being removed. "It's almost too easy," the blonde beauty commented, accent thick and pronounced.

"Easy is good," Tatsuki muttered as she peeled away from the curb. "I'm jus' waitin' for the hard part ta start."

"What?" Nel asked incredulously. "You think those guys can handle us?"

Tatsuki shook her head as she bit her thumb nail, a habit she had when she was deep in thought. She didn't think the idiots could hold a candle to her and the rest of her crew, but it wasn't the idiots she was worried about. She was waiting for the HNIC to get involved. Only then would they have a problem.

"We might have to ask for some backup."

Nel sucked her teeth, and Tatsuki could feel the green-haired girl rolling her huge, wheat-gray eyes. "You're insane. There's no way those guys can do anything to us."

"Nel, it ain't them I'm worried about, ya know? They work for a guy who's scary as hell. Or have ya forgotten that fast what happened ta Soi Fon?"

The entire vehicle went silent. Tatsuki hated bringing up such a sore topic, but it had to be addressed if they planned to move forward with this operation. She glanced over at Yoruichi and wanted to kick herself. Soi Fon had been her younger sister. The girl had been adopted, but it hadn't lessened the bond between the two. Soi Fon had admired the hell out of Yoruichi and had followed her everywhere.

Including into a turf war.

"Damn, Tats," Nel sighed. "Low blow, dude."

Tatsuki didn't respond, but she _did_ put a comforting hand on her girlfriend's thigh. Even though it was fun getting their revenge on the small fry, they still had to worry about the big dogs playing the background.

XOXOXO

"_Como esta_?"

"_No habla_, motherfucker!" Shinji snapped as he grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk of a black sedan.

Grimmjow smirked as he adjusted the dark shades hiding his eyes. Shinji had been in a foul mood ever since their plane had touched down in Buenaventura, Colombia. Actually, since before they'd even boarded. Grimmjow had had to persuade his best friend not to go kicking down Shiro's door after seeing the albino getting out of the car belonging to a strange, dark-haired man. What a day that had been.

They'd been out, doing some last minute runs on the low, when Shinji had insisted they drive past their twins' apartment. The second they had, they'd spotted Shiro climbing from a white, luxury sports car, huge smile on his face, while a dark-haired man with no sense of fashion leered at him from the driver's seat. Shinji had cursed under his breath and tried to leave the vehicle, but Grimmjow had peeled off before he could. He understood his friend's anger and frustration, but now definitely wasn't the time to address the issue. Good thing Ichigo hadn't been there. Grimmjow didn't know what he would've done had he seen the orange-haired brat in the same position.

"Calm down, Shin," he said quietly. "No need ta make everybody yer enemy."

"Fuck that," the blond grumbled before slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "I don' wanna be here an' neither do you. I don' know how ya can be so goddamned cool."

Grimmjow shrugged, unable to understand it himself. He had to keep reminding himself that their trip was only temporary, and that it wouldn't be long before they could return, and he'd be able to see Ichigo again. Honestly, he couldn't wait. He wanted to see the look on Ichigo's face when the guy realized that he wasn't dead – realized that he still loved him and that he'd kept his promise.

"It's hard, but we'll get through it. Let's jus' do our job. The faster we do that, the faster we can leave."

Shinji scowled as they trudged up about five stairs, onto a wide porch of a house that greatly resembled the one they'd left in America. In fact, the more Grimmjow looked at it, the more he felt that this house was a replica.

"Deja vu, huh?" Shinji stated.

Grimmjow just nodded as they made it to the huge front door. Before they could knock or ring the bell, it was opened, revealing a tall, older man with wild, gray hair and a matching mustache. His eyes were dark and seemed to pierce right through them.

"Grimmjow?" he asked, rolling the "r."

The blue-haired man nodded and hiked his bag onto his shoulder as he studied the elderly guy before him. The man was wearing a creme-colored, short-sleeved, linen, button-up shirt and matching pants with black sandals. He had a cigar in his left hand and a sturdy glass in his right. After the man looked them up and down, he gave a slow smile.

"I'm Barragan Luisenbarn. I'm in charge of the operation here. Did Javier tell you what you're going to be doing?"

"Yeah, he told us," Grimmjow answered.

The man's voice was deep and rustic, like he hardly used it.

Barragan nodded and stepped back from the door, indicating with the hand holding the cigar for them to enter the foyer. Shinji went inside first, and once Grimmjow followed behind him, it was confirmed in his head that this house was indeed a copy. They trailed behind Barragan into the kitchen, where they took a seat at a large dining table.

"Tomorrow you guys will meet the rest of the crew. There's maybe three hundred men working on these grounds. We just want them to get acquainted with your faces first. Then, you can get started with the real work."

Shinji glanced over at Grimmjow and arched a brow, but Grimmjow ignored it. He wouldn't let Barragan see anything other than his poker face. He didn't know these men, and he'd seen enough gangster movies to know that your worst enemy could be your right-hand man. He didn't trust anyone.

"Tha's fine. When do we meet 'em?"

Barragan smiled as if he could read Grimmjow's thoughts. He set down his glass and lifted the cigar to his lips as he stared. He seemed to be considering his next words carefully, while also assessing Grimmjow. After a few more moments of taut silence, the older man finally spoke.

"This evening, I'll come for you. The men will be waiting in the warehouse about a mile from here."

Grimmjow nodded. "Well, if ya don' mind, I'd like ta change and take a nap."

"Of course. I would expect nothing less. Let me have Hiyori show you to your room."

"Hiyori?" Shinji parroted.

Barragan looked at him and nodded with a soft, affectionate grin. "Yes. She's my granddaughter."

As soon as the words left the man's mouth, a short, blonde girl almost skipped into the room. She had her hair done in two pigtail ponytails, and she wore a red, sleeveless, hooded sweatshirt with matching capri sweats. On her feet were a pair of bright yellow flip-flops. Her eyes were huge and golden-brown, just like a cat's.

"Sweetheart, can you take these boys to the room that were prepared earlier?" Barragan asked.

She stopped and stared at Grimmjow first, then at Shinji. Shinji scowled. Grimmjow didn't even have to look at his best friend to know that he was becoming defensive. The guy despised being stared at by a stranger.

"Hey, Gran-pa! Don't he look like Hinori?" Hiyori quipped.

Barragan grinned. "Yes, he does. Now, do as I asked, please."

The tone of his voice was still soft, but the edge had slightly sharpened, and Hiyori caught it. She immediately nodded and turned back to Shinji and Grimmjow.

"Follow me."

Grimmjow stood and made tracks behind the shorter girl, Shinji not too far behind. After they left the kitchen, they entered the foyer and climbed the wide, winding staircase to the second floor of the house. They were led down the long hall to a pair of enormous double doors. Hiyori paused in front of them, and that was when Shinji popped his question.

"So, who's this Hinori guy I s'posedly look like?"

Hiyori gave a wolfish grin and smacked Shinji's arm playfully. However, the hit had a little more bite than Shinji probably expected.

"He's my big brother, but he's away in college in America. Guess that means I get ta play with you instead!"

Shinji growled and reached under his jacket, clearly going for the weapon stashed there. Grimmjow reached over to stop the idiot, but was stunned by what happened next. Hiyori stepped forward, a long, gleaming blade tucked underneath Shinji's chin. The playfulness in her eyes had disappeared as if a strong wind had blown it away.

"Now, why ya wanna go and do that for?" she asked quietly, voice now a deep alto. "I was tryna be friendly."

The two men were stuck, unable to move. Shinji had no choice, but Grimmjow was just paralyzed with shock. He couldn't believe such a small girl could be so fast and ruthless. And where the hell had that knife even come from? Shinji slowly held his hands up, eyebrows hiding beneath his blond bangs.

"Easy, Scrappy. I meant no harm."

"Sure, you didn't," the girl snorted. She stared Shinji down a while longer before she removed the blade and replaced it at the small of her back beneath her top. She then flashed a smile at Shinji, all seriousness erased with the swiftness of a cobra. "Let's start over, huh?"

Shinji managed to nod, but that was about it. His mouth was still slightly hanging open as he stared at the short girl in something resembling awe. Grimmjow finally found his voice and cracked up. The laughter seemed to originate from his gut, spiraling up and out of his throat, husky and deep. He couldn't believe the brass balls the girl had. Hell, he liked her already. Hiyori turned her smile to him before she opened the bedroom doors and held a hand out.

"Welcome to your new abode, guys."

They stepped past her into the room and looked around. It was amazing. It was a lot like a hotel suite, sporting two queen-sized beds directly across from each other. There were doors on either side of the beds, which led to two separate bathrooms. Grimmjow could see the toilets and sinks from where he stood. Opposite the bathroom on the left was a large floor-to-ceiling window that opened up to a wide balcony, overlooking the beautiful expanse of grounds the property rested on. The beds were on a sort of raised platform that could be reached by climbing three carpeted stairs. On the opposite side of the bed on the right was a huge area that held a wet bar, a long, black, leather couch and matching loveseat, a glass coffee table, and a flat screen TV that had to be no less than sixty inches. There were dressers over on the side of the room near the beds as well as another set of doors that had to lead to a more than spacious closet.

The room was amazing alright.

Grimmjow climbed the stairs and set his bag down at the foot of the bed on the left. He sat down and removed his sneakers, still intent on that nap and shower. Sitting on a plane for that many hours made him feel like he'd molded. Shinji huffed and did the same on the other bed, drawing Grimmjow's attention.

"How ya know I wanted the bed on the right?"

Grimmjow smirked and stood, slowly removing his t-shirt. "Don' matter. I wanted this one."

"Fuck you, G. Spoiled bastard."

"I guess. Jealous?"

Shinji rolled his eyes and flipped Grimmjow the bird before flopping onto his back and stretching his arms across the bed. Grimmjow continued to smirk, until he realized they still had company standing in the doorway. Hiyori's eyes were round as she stared at Grimmjow's exposed chest.

"Thanks, kid. We c'n take it from here," he commented, smirk still in place.

She jumped and met his amused gaze. Finally, the haze lifted and she gave a saucy grin.

"I ain't a kid, you know? I'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks."

"Heh. Yer still a kid...kid."

Hiyori sniffed indignantly before turning on her heel and exiting the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Shinji chuckled quietly as he turned his head to face Grimmjow.

"Think ya coulda crushed her dreams a lil harder, Grimm?" he asked.

Grimmjow snorted. "Hell, yeah. I think I let her down pretty easy."

"If you say so, Stud."

"Fuck you."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom closest to his bed. He stopped in the doorway and searched the wall for a light switch. When he found it, he flicked it on, his eyebrows rising, instantly impressed. He whistled under his breath and nodded as he took in the lavish interior. It was made up of creme-colored marble and had more space than his entire bedroom back in America. There were multiple heads in the standing shower, the tub was a jacuzzi, and the sink was long and lit with vanity-styled bulbs. Hanging on a rack next to the tub were a couple of white, fluffy-looking towels and wash rags. He could get used to a place like this.

But he wouldn't. He already had a home to return to.

He went to his bag, retrieved his cleaning essentials and made his way back to the bathroom, where he closed the door and proceeded to rid himself of the grime of several hours of plane travel.

XOXOXO

Gin sucked down a lungful of smoke as he listened to Crystal relay her daily report. He knew the girl couldn't wait until her job was done, and if what she had been telling him was anything to go by, she would be free to go about her business very soon. Tousen was falling into their carefully laid trap just as expected. He glanced over at his twin, proud of the poker face she sported while her girlfriend's voice came through the cell phone receiver on speaker.

"So, there was another robb'ry?" he asked.

"Yeah. He was all pissed about it and yelling at someone named Shorty."

Gin knew the guy. He nodded as he took another pull from his cigarette. "And that was all?"

"Mmhmm. He was headed over there when he left. At least that's what he said."

"Cool. Ya done good."

"Thank you." The girl paused, obviously wanting to say more. Gin knew exactly what was on her mind, but he'd wait until she asked before he acknowledged it. After a few moments of restless silence, Crystal finally spoke. "Um, S-Sir?"

"Uh-huh?"

"C-can – I mean...is G-Genevieve around?"

Gin grinned, the action creasing the corners of his eyes. He didn't respond, just held the phone out to his sister. She gingerly grasped it and hit a button on the screen before lifting the device to her ear and turning her back. As Genevieve talked to her girlfriend, Gin slid into his car and grabbed his twin's phone from the middle console. He punched in The Man's number and waited patiently as the connection was made. Three rings was all it took before The Man answered.

"Yes, Gin?"

"Sir, everythin's movin' 'ccordin' ta plan."

"Good, good. How is your girl holding out?"

"She's fine. I say this will be over by the end a'the week."

"Perfect. Don't forget what I told you. I don't want him dead just yet."

"Yes, Sir."

The Man ended the conversation, the phone beeping twice in Gin's ear. He set down the phone and finished his cigarette as he waited for his sister to end her conversation as well. They had one more run to make before the night was over.

XOXOXO

Ichigo stared at the screen of his newly purchased laptop. He was writing a ten thousand word story for his Creative Writing class, but had run into that nasty speed bump called "writer's block." He sucked his teeth and sat back in the desk chair, arms stretching over his head. He'd been sitting there for two hours and still nothing. Maybe he needed a break. He nodded, saved the little progress he'd made, and rose from his seat. He trudged from his room and into the living room, where his brother was draped across the couch like a blanket, eyes glued to a sitcom. Ichigo paused over his brother's head and stared down at the spiky, ash-white tresses that were sticking up in every direction possible. Shiro was wearing a black A-shirt and black basketball shorts. As a matter of fact, it was the same outfit he'd been wearing for the last three days.

"Dude," Ichigo started, lip curling. "I think you're starting to make penicillin."

"Ha-fucking-ha, King."

"No, I'm serious. Look," Ichigo said as he tousled his brother's hair.

Shiro growled and knocked his hand away. "Stop, asshole."

The albino had been acting this way ever since Shinji had left. Ichigo couldn't even be mad at him, either. He remembered when he'd gone through the same exact thing with Grimmjow. At least Shiro had the sense not to turn to reckless behavior during his depression. Although, the one time they had gone out, the guy had managed to get so drunk, Ichigo had had to carry his sorry carcass to the car and into their apartment.

Speaking of which...

Ichigo's face flushed as he recalled Shuuhei's little get-together. He'd been having a blast, right up until Renji and Shuuhei had _both_ begun kissing on his neck and groping him at that table. Shuuhei had been the first to kick off the festivities, his hand creeping along Ichigo's thigh while he puffed on the hookah. Ichigo had been so high that he hadn't even noticed it at first. It was only when Renji's hot, full lips had been pressed to his neck that he'd gotten the picture. He couldn't deny that the attention had felt amazing, but he couldn't bring himself to let another man touch him so soon after...

He'd shot to his feet and taken off into the darkened room in search of his brother, totally shaken and mind blown. After he'd found Shiro on the other side of the cavernous warehouse, he'd dragged him to the door, ready to blow the place. However, before he could make it through the door, he was cornered by Renji, who had tucked a small slip of paper containing his number into Ichigo's back pocket. A few murmured words into Ichigo's ear later, and Renji had done his own disappearing act. Ichigo had been so shocked and freaked out, he hadn't touched the paper for two whole days, only to end up throwing it in the trash. Sure, he found Renji hot, but the guy was taken. Not only that, but Ichigo wasn't ready to move on just yet. He was still mourning the death of the one man he'd loved with his all. He wasn't ready for what Shuuhei and Renji apparently had in mind for him. Shuuhei had called him a few times afterward, and they'd even bumped into each other at the University, but Ichigo did his best to avoid the other man. It meant arriving to class a lot earlier than was his usual, but it did the trick.

"Shiro, you hungry?" he asked, leaving those disturbing thoughts alone.

"No," his brother droned, eyes never leaving the television screen.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. He had a mind to order pizza, knowing Shiro loved the stuff, but he wasn't even sure that the guy would eat. Ichigo was beyond worried, but he knew that nothing but time could numb his brother's pain. He went ahead to the kitchen and grabbed the wall phone. He called their favorite pizza spot and ordered two large pizzas, one pepperoni, the other plain. Once that was done, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and made his way back into the living room, where he plopped down on the couch beside Shiro. Shiro didn't move, didn't blink – nothing. He seemed almost catatonic.

They sat in silence, Ichigo alternating between sipping his water and rubbing his brother's leg, offering his own version of comfort. When he glanced over at the albino again, he saw him frowning at the TV, but tears were sliding from his eyes. Ichigo wanted to punch Shinji himself. He didn't understand how the blond idiot could just up and leave Shiro that way. Not after everything that had happened. He just didn't get it.

"It's alright, Shiro. You'll get through this."

"I wish I never met that motherfucker, King."

"I know."

They were silent again as Shiro rubbed his eyes and focused on the TV once more. Ichigo was falling into his own coma, when the doorbell rang. _Finally_, he thought. His stomach was grumbling petulantly, demanding that he fill it immediately. He climbed to his feet and sent another look down at his brother. Shiro had fallen asleep, lips parted and face streaked with dried tears. Again, a pang of remorse hit Ichigo and made him want to murder Shiro's ex-boyfriend. After grabbing his wallet from the desk in his room, he clomped down the stairs to the front door and threw it open. He'd been expecting the pizza man, so he went rigid with surprise when he realized that it in fact _wasn't_ the pizza man at the door. His little sister, Yuzu, stood on the porch, sandy-brown hair, hoodie and sweat pants drenched from the pouring rain. She looked up at him with wide, beseeching brown eyes that were filled with tears.

"Ichigo," she whimpered.

"Y-Yuzu! What the hell are you doing here in this rain?!"

"I-I couldn't t-take it anymore!" she blurted, teeth chattering from the cold. "K-Karin's so _mean_! She called me a p-prissy b-bitch and threw m-my text book at me!"

Ichigo pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, wanting to go and kill his own sister. He couldn't believe Karin could be such a jerk to her own fucking twin. Remembering that Yuzu was standing there freezing her tail off, he pulled her inside and shut the door.

"Come upstairs, and change these clothes. I'll get you something to wear while you take a hot shower. Did you eat yet? Have you called Dad?"

She shook her head as they climbed the stairs. "He's working late tonight."

"Damn. Alright, well, come on."

Ichigo led his younger sister upstairs, where he closed the door and went over to Shiro. He nudged the albino awake, still scowling even as the guy cursed at him and tried to turn over. Normally, Ichigo would have laughed at him.

"Shiro, get up. I need you to listen out for the pizza."

Shiro finally cracked a gold and black eye open and peered at Ichigo. "What?"

"Listen for the food. I'm gonna get Yuz some clothes and stuff."

"Yuz?" Shiro asked as he gathered some life and slowly sat up, sleepy gaze going to their little sister. "Yuz, what the hell ya doin' here?"

"Karin," was all she said, head lowered and eyes on the floor.

"What'd she do?"

Ichigo interrupted, hands on Yuzu's shoulders as he steered her towards the bathroom.

"We'll talk later. Let her shower and get outta these wet clothes first."

Shiro nodded and held his hand out. "Where's the cash?"

Ichigo reached into his back pocket with one hand and tossed his wallet to Shiro. "Make sure you tip the delivery guy this time. You always pretend to forget."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Ichigo grinned and gently pushed Yuzu into the bathroom, flicking on the light as he did so. He pointed out the clean towels and wash rags before closing the door and heading to his room for some clothes that wouldn't completely swallow the girl. He found an old pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that he hadn't worn since high school, but had refused to get rid of. Lucky. He took the items back to the bathroom and set them on the toilet before leaving again. When he went to the living room this time, the pizza had arrived, and Shiro was sitting Indian-style on the couch.

"So what the fuck happened?"

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair as he took a seat next to his brother. "Yuzu says Karin called her a prissy bitch and threw a book at her. You know, the usual, evil shit."

"Damn that girl. What the fuck's her problem?"

"You mean, besides her being mad at the world? I have no idea."

"Yeah, but we talked 'bout all this. Why's she still got a stick up her ass?"

"Shiro, you know she's fuckin' jealous of Yuzu. She's always been like that."

"I thought she woulda gotten over that shit by now, though. It ain't fair ta Yuz. She ain't never done nothin' ta Karin."

"I know that."

Ichigo shook his head, still baffled at his other sister's spiteful behavior. It was totally uncalled for and hurting the hell out of Yuzu. He glanced at the clock on the cable box and decided he would give their father a couple more hours before he called him. Apparently, they had to have another family discussion. He heard the shower shut off and rose to his feet to run to the kitchen and grab a few paper plates and napkins for the pizza. Once Yuzu came out of the bathroom, they were going to get to the bottom of what was going on between the two girls.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**Now, normally I don't write entire song lyrics in a story, but this is an exception, as it will also be for the last chapter. The reason for such is because they play an important role in the story, so it's highly recommended that you READ them. That or at least play the song. It'll help you understand the chapter a lot more and what state of mind I wanted the characters to feel.**

**Thanks for your time. Now...**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

The dust from the dry dirt was so thick, it seemed to clog the back of his throat as he and Shinji climbed out of the small jeep. He glanced around the grounds, noting that they seemed to go on for what seemed like forever and were dotted with buildings here and there. However, beyond the buildings was a large, chain link fence that separated them from what appeared to be a small town. There were a bunch of houses all packed together, at any rate.

Grimmjow cleared his throat as they were led over to one of the several buildings. It was the only one with a high stone wall that was decorated with rings of barb wire along the top edge like a fort. The iron door to the wall was already open, probably in anticipation of their arrival. Once they passed it, Grimmjow looked up and raised an eyebrow at the sight of a tower at the top of the building, where an armed security guard sat perched behind a huge prison searchlight.

Were they at a jail?

They strode along the dirt path until they reached the entrance to the fortified building, which was another large, iron door. Their escorts – two men in tan uniforms and carrying M-16s – approached it and rapped on the metal in a series of rhythms. There was a brief pause before an eye-slot slid aside, and a man the complexion of peanut butter peered through.

"Password," he barked.

"_El tiempo es dinero_," one of the escorts replied in a deep, rough voice.

The eye-slot slammed shut, and the heavy, iron door was slowly opened. The man who'd demanded a password was dressed in the same fashion as Grimmjow's and Shinji's escorts, and he also carried a rifle. However, he wore a tan and hunter green beret that sported a picture of a bull on the front. The two escorts snapped to attention and saluted him before the man nodded and turned his attention to Grimmjow and Shinji.

"_¿Son estos los hombres que Barragán dijo a su encuentro aquí?_"

One of the escorts nodded as he hung his rifle across his back. "Si, señor."

The man nodded and approached them, Grimmjow's hackles rising slightly. He didn't know what it was about the man, but there was something agitating Grimmjow's instincts. His instincts had helped him survive his whole life, so he normally took heed to them.

"You are Grimmjow Jaegerjaques and Shinji Hirako?" the man asked, his words heavily accented.

"Yeah," Grimmjow answered as Shinji nodded from beside him. "Is Barragan here?"

"I ask the questions, señor. Not you."

That bothered him, but not as much as it did Shinji. Shinji visibly bristled and shifted closer.

"Who the fuck-"

Grimmjow held up a hand, halting Shinji's progress, but never letting his eyes leave the man in front of him. He finally understood why his instincts had been shouting at him. This man had probably been in charge, and from what Javier had told them before they'd left America, Grimmjow was to be placed at the head of the operation here in order to keep the men in line until Javier's son arrived. That couldn't have gone over well with this poser. Grimmjow stifled a grin and raised a brow. He wasn't about to let his composure slip for a man that apparently wasn't even worth his time.

"OK," he said.

The man was a little shorter than Grimmjow, standing at around six feet even, and he had a thick, dark mustache that turned into a precisely cut goatee. His eyes were also dark – almost black – and within their depths, Grimmjow could see years of power abuse and a mean streak as long as the equator. The man's jet-black hair was slicked back into a ponytail that hung over his left shoulder, and thick, but neat eyebrows were pulled into a scowl. He glared at Grimmjow for a few moments more before turning his head and spitting on the ground. When he turned back to Grimmjow, he wore a smirk that showed a set of teeth that were toothpaste commercial worthy.

"You stay like that, señor, and we'll get along just fine," he stated. With that, he pivoted on his heel and called over his shoulder, "Follow me."

After that, he started barking orders at the two escorts, who nodded vigorously and scurried off to do tha man's bidding. _Power hungry was right_, Grimmjow thought as he watched the man leave without even introducing himself. Indignant sputtering drew him out of his thoughts and made him glance over at his best friend. Shinji was so angry, his face was red, and his lips were pulled back in a dangerous sneer.

"Who the fuck does that guy think he is, huh? I coulda kicked his ass from here to America. Why didntcha let me?"

Grimmjow finally allowed his grin to show. "I need a little more information 'bout him before we do something like that. 'Sides, we got a job ta do, remember?"

Shinji's sneer relaxed as he grumbled his understanding, but it was more than obvious that he didn't agree with going along with the flow. Grimmjow just patted his shoulder before moving to follow behind the man who'd just bossed them around.

"Let's go."

They entered the building, and Grimmjow was immediately assaulted by the smell of cigar smoke. There was a large front desk, where a man sat watching a group of monitors. He barely managed to give them a cursory glance as they stalked down a corridor to the left of the desk. Grimmjow arched a brow as they passed cell after cell. He'd been right when he'd thought upon their arrival that this place resembled a prison. Iron bars kept the men in the cells separated from those on the outside. Not that they were needed. It was clear that the men in those cells had been beaten and probably tortured beyond belief, if the state of their clothing and bodies were any indication – not to mention, the smell was horrendous.

They didn't get a chance to dawdle before they were led to the end of the corridor and to a tall, looming, iron door. It was unlocked and pulled open, and the next thing Grimmjow knew, they were traipsing down a set of stairs that had to lead to the underbelly of the building. The staircase's walls were damp and made of stone, the stairs themselves nothing but tightly packed earth. It smelled like rain, which was a welcomed relief from the stench of sweat, excrement and urine they'd just encountered in that prison corridor.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, they cut a right and continued down another long hallway. This one seemed fairly normal, though. The walls were a drab gray and reminded Grimmjow of an office building. He literally expected to see a water cooler and a stand for coffee. There were wooden doors on either side of him and Shinji that were probably offices, but he couldn't be sure because all of them were closed. They finally reached the end of the hallway and turned left. A few short steps later, and they stopped in front of a normal-looking, wooden door. Their ungracious host grabbed the knob and opened the door without so much as a knock before crossing the threshold. Grimmjow prepared himself for the unexpected as he peered into the room. What he saw relaxed his muscles somewhat, but didn't cause him to lower his guard all the way.

The room was pretty big, like the size of a high school cafeteria. Littered throughout were men of various ages and sizes, but they all wore the same uniform that the escorts had. Grimmjow was a little disturbed by the complacency that he saw. All of the men were engaged in some sort of recreational activity, whether it was cards, chess, or watching a big screen TV that was located on the left side of the room. Weren't they supposed to be Javier's reinforcements? Weren't they supposed to be ready for war at any given moment? From the amount of cigars and liquor bottles spread around the place, Grimmjow could tell that these men wouldn't be prepared for war even if it telegraphed its arrival three days beforehand. It was a sad sight. His Crip family wasn't even this dysfunctional, and they were a gang. Weren't drug cartels supposed to be a part of the higher echelons of "organized" crime? He didn't even realize he was sneering with disdain until he was approached by a smiling Barragan. The man still wore his casual outfit from earlier, but now had a gun sticking out of a brown, leather shoulder holster.

"So glad you could make it," Barragan greeted.

Grimmjow's frown only increased as a "soldier" gave a loud belch before cackling loudly and hollering something at his companion in Spanish. This was such an insult to his pride that he didn't know what to feel first.

"I take it you don't like what you see," the older man before them continued, chuckling softly afterward. "But that is why you are here, no?"

Grimmjow absently nodded as he continued to fully absorb the atmosphere. He wouldn't stand for this sort of lackadaisacal behavior. It was disgusting and pathetic. Half of the men in the room were running to fat, their bodies unsuited for any sort of fighting or protection. If someone with even a _little_ bit of determination decided to storm their fort, it would be taken with ease.

He wouldn't stand for it. But...first things first.

He turned to Barrgan finally, eyes darkening with promise. "Who was that guy that brought us down here?" he asked.

Barragan gave him a level stare in return before sighing deeply. "I take it Luis wasn't very hospitable?"

Shinji snorted, his first time reacting since they'd left the front of the building.

"Tha's puttin' it lightly, old man."

"Luis?" Grimmjow parroted, already tucking the name away in his memory.

Barragan nodded. "Si. Luis Sánchez. He was the commanding officer of the reinforcements until now. As you can see, he's unhappy with the new arrangements."

Grimmjow nodded as his eyes found those of their current topic. Luis was watching him from the other side of the room, dark eyes hooded and glinting with malice. It was almost certain that the man would be a future cause for concern.

"He's itchin' ta get his ass kicked," Shinji grunted, resting his hand at his hip, where his own weapon was stashed.

Grimmjow couldn't agree more, but outright fighting in an atmosphere where the man was probably backed by the entire squad was not a wise decision. Grimmjow figured he could let his temper lay low while he further assessed this Luis Sánchez. He turned back to Barragan with a raised brow.

"Let's get started, then."

"I was hoping you would say that," the older man said. "Let me introduce you to your troops."

When Barragan turned towards the gathered group of men, Shinji leaned towards Grimmjow.

"This oughta be fun," he mumbled.

Grimmjow chuckled and couldn't agree more.

XOXOXO

"You have your orders."

Gin scowled as he held his cell phone pressed to his ear. The voice of The Man had his heart pounding and his blood rushing with barely suppressed anger. What the hell was with this turn of events? None of it made sense.

"Yes, Sir," he finally clipped.

The Man ended the connection, and Gin set his phone down on the glass end table beside him. Afterward, he leaned forward and rested his chin against his steepled fingers, elbows on his knees. The Man had called and had suddenly ordered Gin and his sister to stand down from their previous operation, even though they were _so_ close. They were probably only days away from reaching their target and yet...the mission had been terminated?

He glanced across the couch at his sister, who also sat with a shocked and disturbed expression. Her silver hair was up in a ponytail, and she was wearing lounge wear: a light-gray cami and light-gray and pastel blue striped pajama bottoms. Her feet were crossed underneath her as she sat staring back at Gin, lips parted and arctic-blue eyes open.

"I don't get it," she muttered.

"Neither do I, but The Man gave us his reasons."

"Yeah, but...all this for _one_ guy? Who _is_ this guy?"

Gin reached forward for his pack of cigarettes and lighter that rested on the glass coffee table. He shook a stick free from the pack, tossed the box beside him on the couch and eagerly lit up. After inhaling deeply and holding it in for a bit, he exhaled and pressed the fingertips of his right hand to his forehead, massaging lightly.

"I dunno that much 'bout him, but I know he's friends wit' that Shinji guy I brought ta see The Man a while back. He was the leader of Starrk's gang for a bit too, but I thought he'd died. I dunno, 'Vieve. He must be important ta The Man, though, if he's got top priority when it comes ta that little turd, Tousen."

Genevieve nodded and went silent once more. The twins sat in the quiet living room, each lost in their own thoughts for a while, until Gin finally interrupted it.

"Ya gotta get Crystal outta the club. Tell 'er she's done good, but she can go home now."

Genevieve nodded again and reached for her own cell phone. Gin leaned back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. The Man had explained that whoever Shinji's companion was had top priority when it came to the death of Tousen. Something about a debt owed. Whatever the case was, Gin now had a new mission.

"Ay, 'Vieve? Ya got any ideas where them girls might be?" he asked.

Genevieve covered the mouthpiece of her phone before she nodded. "I still deal with one of them. You know, for business and such. She's pretty good at finding people who don't wanna be found."

"Oh, yeah? Well, gimme her number. I gotta set up a meetin' wit' 'em."

"Oh, OK. Jus' gimme a sec."

Gin nodded and climbed to his feet, headed for the kitchen. He was in the mood for a nice, cold beer.

XOXOXO

"You gotta be kiddin' me!"

Tatsuki stared at the silver-haired man across from them, mouth agape. She was too stunned to do much more than breathe. It was Nel who broke the pregnant silence again.

"You serious, dude?"

The man, who went by the name of Gin Ichimaru, nodded with a small smirk. They were seated at a table at the outside dining section of a nearby Checker's fast food joint. Tatsuki sat beside Yoruichi and Halibel, while Nel stood next to Halibel, left leg lifted and foot resting on the bench the girls were seated on. Nel was staring at Gin like he'd just told her the moon could speak. Gin lit a cigarette and didn't answer Nel until he'd expelled his first lungful of smoke.

"'Bout as serious as I'm gonna get."

Nel whistled, but Tatsuki was still speechless. That man...that blue-haired man...the former (albeit briefly) leader of the Crips and Ichigo's lover...was _alive_? How could that be? And did Ichigo know?

"S-so..." Tatsuki started, finally finding her voice. "We should just let Tousen _be_ because _your_ boss said so? Even though that asshole had a hand in my Uncle's partner's death?"

Gin nodded and blew smoke through his nose. "Yep. 'Sides, The Man says Shinji's friend has a bigger grudge against him. I don' really care, though. I jus' do my job. What The Man says, goes."

_A bigger grudge?_ Tatsuki silently wondered. _What could make_... Then, her thoughts trailed off. If all the rumors she'd heard were true, then that man _definitely_ had a monopoly on Tousen's head. Starrk alone was enough to relinquish her grudge into the hands of that man, but there were a lot more deaths that Tousen was responsible for that he had yet to answer to that man for. Tatsuki nodded.

"Fine."

Nel turned big, wheat-gray eyes in her direction. "You sure about that, Tats? I mean, we were just gettin' fired up."

"I'm pretty sure. I think we can turn our attentions elsewhere now."

Halibel spoke up, but kept her gemstone-green eyes on Gin and his twin sister, whom Tatsuki was more familiar with.

"Like where? Wasn' dat da reason we got involved wit' dis mess in da firs' place?" the blonde woman asked.

"We can keep doing what we're doing," Tatsuki ammended. "We just leave Tousen alone. Leave him on ice until that man comes back."

Genevieve smiled and took a step forward, gaining everyone's attention. "I've got an idea. Why don't you ladies work with us and The Man? We could use some new recruits, and the pay's good."

Tatsuki exchanged glances with the girls, Halibel stony-faced, Yoruichi the same, while Nel shrugged and smirked.

"Hell, I'm down," she said.

Tatsuki took that as a unanimous vote and turned back to Genevieve with a grin.

"Sounds good."

XOXOXO

Ichigo had informed his old man about Yuzu's situation, so they were still seated in the living room, but now they were waiting for their father to arrive with Karin. It was obviously time for another Kurosaki family meeting.

Yuzu was wearing a set of Ichigo's old clothing, while Shiro had managed to rouse himself enough to finally shower and dress in something other than what he'd previously been wasting away in. The pizza had become a fond memory as the siblings stared at the TV, eyes glazed over and breathing even. Ichigo was two blinks away from la-la land, when his cell phone went off on the coffee table, and the front door rang at the same time.

"What the fuck?" Shiro griped as he sat forward and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. "Who's bein' so fuckin' stupid?"

Ichigo glanced at his phone, then at Shiro and Yuzu, and they all grimaced, nodding.

"Dad," they said in unison.

Ichigo stood and stretched his arms over his head, yawning as all of his bones readjusted. He shuffled over to the door and flipped on the stairwell light before trotting down the stairs. At the bottom, he paused and listened. He didn't hear anything aside from the driving rain, so he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Sure enough, Isshin and Karin stood on the porch, one glaring, the other grinning goofily.

"Ichigo, my son!" Isshin crowed as he burst past the screen door. "Let your papa in out of the rain!"

Ichigo growled as he dodged an overenthusiastic hug. "Knock it off, would you? Is there _ever_ a time when you're _not_ being an idiot?"

Isshin gasped and clasped both hands together before holding them up in the air. "Masakiiiii! Do you hear how our son talks to me? Where did we go wrong?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and ignored his father's freak-out. Instead, he turned to his other younger sister and gave her a stern look.

"You know why you're here, right?" he asked.

Karin glared at him, dark eyes like glittering onyx. "Yeah," she grunted. "'Cuz you an' Shiro don't know how to mind your own business."

The venom in the girl's voice actually took Ichigo by surprise. He was aware that Karin had a bad attitude – he even knew that she was pissed at the world for some reason, but it had never reached levels of this proportion. Before he could open his mouth to retort, Isshin faced Karin and gave her a look so threatening, it scared the hell out of _Ichigo_.

"You're not in enough trouble, young lady?" Isshin asked, voice lowering and eyes darkening.

Karin stared at the man like he'd just grown another set of legs, but she didn't say anything. With that, Ichigo cleared his throat and indicated the open door.

"Let's take this inside."

They all trooped up the stairs and into the living room, where Shiro and Yuzu were still perched on the couch. Yuzu, though, at the sight of Karin seemed to draw in on herself, her shoulders huddling forward and her knees drawing up to her chest. Ichigo understood why immediately. As soon as Karin had spied her twin sister, her eyes had gone all cold and angry, the accusation within them ringing loud and clear as a bull horn. Shiro must have noticed it too because he climbed to his feet and stalked over to Karin.

"Knock it the fuck off," he growled. "That ain't no way to look at yer own damned sister, Karin."

Ichigo had only seen Shiro that pissed a handful of times, but he could most certainly relate. He wanted to wring Karin's neck for treating Yuzu that way. What had the girl ever done to her to deserve that kind of behavior? It didn't make sense.

Isshin closed and locked the door before going over to the empty love seat, where he sat and and studied Yuzu.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Yuzu tore her gaze away from her hostile twin and looked at their old man, nodding once she met his gaze. Isshin nodded back before turning to Karin, who was still being surrounded by Ichigo and Shiro.

"You're going to _talk_. You're going to tell us _why_ you're treating your sister like an enemy, and then you're going to get your act together and stop doing it. I won't settle for less, Karin. This has gone far enough, do you understand me?"

It was Ichigo's and Shiro's turn to stare at their old man like he was an alien life form. That time in Isshin's office couldn't even hold a candle to the man's demeanor right now. He was more serious than they'd ever seen him, and while it was understandable, it was still disconcerting as hell. Ichigo shifted in place before deciding to take a seat beside Yuzu on the couch. As he started to walk away, he noticed Shiro obviously had no intentions of moving, so he grabbed his brother's arm and tugged.

"Let her be. We're all here to get to the bottom of things, so there's no point in crowding her."

Shiro gave their sister one last glare before sucking his teeth and following Ichigo to the couch. There they all gave their dark-haired sister their attention. She stood in the middle of the living room, eyes downturned and brow pulled into a fierce scowl. For the longest time, she remained silent, hugging her arms to her chest as a means of defense. When Isshin cleared his throat, she shuffled her feet and sighed.

"I just...I just feel like no one likes me in this family. I feel like Yuzu is the favorite, and it pisses me off. I mean, I _know_ I'm not perfect, but I didn't think I deserved all your hate. It's not fair," she said, her voice ending with a wobble as tears spilled across her lashes and down over her cheeks.

She put her head down, and her dark hair fell forward, hiding her face, which Ichigo was sure she was grateful for. He was stunned. Of all the reasons he could've come up with for Karin's aggressive attitude and behavior, that wasn't one of them. Why the hell would Karin think they hated her? Sure, they were proud of Yuzu, but that didn't mean they favored her over Karin. Ichigo wanted to get up and hug his sister, but decided against it when his father was the first on his feet. Isshin moved over to the girl and gathered her into his arms, where she turned into him and began sobbing freely, her small hands clinging to the elder Kurosaki's suit jacket.

The other siblings could only sit and stare. And then, the miraculous occurred. Yuzu climbed to her feet and quietly shuffled over to the two in the middle of the living room. There she hesitated before putting a hand on her sister's back. Karin jumped and peered at her from the depths of Isshin's jacket, her eyes watery and wary.

"Karin, they don't favor me. And even if they did, it wouldn't change how I feel about you. You're my sister. I would _never_ make you feel bad purposely. I thought you hated me, so I avoided you, but now I know why we could never coexist, and I want to change that. You don't have to shut me out anymore. I love you," Yuzu placated.

It seemed like everyone in the room held their breath as Karin stepped away from Isshin and stared at her twin. The girls appeared to have an entire conversation with their eyes before both their faces scrunched up and they fell into an embrace. Ichigo prided himself on being a strong man, but a scene like that had the potential to bring the most hardened serial killer to his knees with emotion. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes as he smiled, and when he glanced over at Shiro, his smile widened as he registered the huge grin the albino was wearing. For some reason, that had gone much more smoothly than Ichigo had expected. Karin hadn't thrown a fit or cursed at everyone. She'd behaved much like a teenaged girl should: full of emotion and uncertainty.

Isshin smiled down at his girls before running his hand through both of their hair. After that, he turned to Ichigo and Shiro with stars and tears in his eyes.

"I suppose that settles that," he said.

Ichigo nodded and stood. "Yeah, seems like it."

He moved over to the group and put his arms around his little sisters, wrapping them up in a warm hug. He was allowed to wear his heart on his sleeve for a moment as special as this one. However, once that was done, he glanced over at his brother and frowned. Shiro was still seated on the couch, black and golden eyes on the carpet.

"Oi," Ichigo called. "You OK?"

Shiro seemed to automatically understand that Ichigo was talking to him and slowly nodded. "I'm fine. I jus' got a question."

The room went eerily silent as apprehension swept it. When Shiro looked up, his eyes were hard with determination.

"Who's yer kid's father, Karin? I think we deserve ta know that much at this point."

Ichigo had to agree. He turned his attention to Karin, who had pulled out of the hug with Yuzu and now stood alternating her gaze between Isshin and Shiro. She bit her bottom lip, obviously nervous (an emotion that was completely foreign on the normally sullen girl). After a few moments of quiet, she sighed deeply and rubbed her growing belly.

"He's dead."

A gunshot couldn't have shocked the entire room's occupants more. Ichigo even flinched as his eyes grew enormous. So, that was why Karin had never wanted to divulge that information? Still, something felt off.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I was embarrassed, Ichi-bro!" she snapped, resorting to the old nickname she'd dubbed him when they were much younger. "How could I just come out and tell you guys that I met him at a party, slept with him at that party after getting far too drunk, and then two months later, found out I was pregnant with his kid?"

That made a lot more sense. Ichigo shrugged, not knowing how to respond, but it was taken out of his hands when Shiro tilted his head, clearly still unsatisfied.

"What was his name? Ya know that much, dontcha?"

"Shiro!" Ichigo barked. "Don't be such an ass!"

"Well, I just wanna know who I gotta hunt down and make step up ta the plate. Tha's all."

Karin did some more nervous fidgeting before she 'fessed up. "I-I...well...he told me his name was Di, but his full name was Di Roy Rinker. We went to the same school. I've got a bunch of classes with his best friend, Jinta Hanakari."

"Urahara's boy?" Isshin asked, eyebrows almost hidden along his hairline.

"Mmhmm," Karin continued.

Ichigo was flabbergasted. Stunned speechless. Paralyzed with shock. Di Roy Rinker. Di Roy. That was the name of the boy that Grimmjow had cared so much about. The boy at whose funeral Grimmjow had been killed. It was mind-numbing news. Ichigo walked mechanically over to the couch and plopped down hard beside his brother. Shiro turned to him, eyes just as wide as Ichigo's.

"Ain't that-"

"Yeah. It's the same kid," Ichigo interrupted. "Holy _fuck_. What a small world."

"You guys knew him?" Karin asked, voice a little surprised and confused.

When it became undeniable that Ichigo wasn't going to answer the question, Shiro did so for him.

"Some friends of ours knew him."

"So...what now?" Ichigo finally asked after the silence had stretched on for several moments. "What the hell happens now?"

Isshin hummed and rubbed his scruffy chin. "We do the only thing that can be done: prepare for the soon-to-be addition to our family."

In the end, the old man was right. Ichigo was still a little shell-shocked about the identity of Karin's child's father. That had to be the most shocking thing to happen since watching Grimmjow's murder. The simple thought led his mind down a road he'd been studiously avoiding for some time now.

_Damn_.

He waited until his sisters and old man made their departure before he escaped to his room, where he shut the door and turned on his stereo. As if the universe could read his mood, Rihanna's voice crooned the lyrics to her newest single "What Now."

_I've been ignoring this big lump in my throat  
>I shouldn't be crying, tears were for the weaker days<br>I'm stronger, now what, so I say  
>But something's missing<em>

_Whatever it is, it feels like_  
><em>It's laughing at me through the glass of a two-sided mirror<em>  
><em>Whatever it is, it's just laughing at me<em>  
><em>And I just wanna scream<em>

_What now? I just can't figure it out_  
><em>What now? I guess I'll just wait it out<em>  
><em>What now? Whoa, what now?<em>

_I found the one, he changed my life_  
><em>But was it me that changed<em>  
><em>And he just happened to come at the right time<em>  
><em>I'm supposed to be in love<em>  
><em>But I'm numb again<em>

_Whatever it is, it feels like_  
><em>It's laughing at me through the glass of a two-sided mirror<em>  
><em>Whatever it is, it's just sitting there laughing at me<em>  
><em>And I just wanna scream<em>

_What now? I just can't figure it out_  
><em>What now? I guess I'll just wait it out (wait it out)<em>  
><em>What now? Please tell me<em>  
><em>What now?<em>

_There's no one to call cause I'm just playing games with them all_  
><em>The more I swear I'm happy, the more that I'm feeling alone<em>  
><em>Cause I spent every hour just going through the motions<em>  
><em>I can't even get the emotions to come out<em>  
><em>Dry as a bone, but I just wanna shout<em>

_What now? I just can't figure it out_  
><em>What now? I guess I'll just wait it out (wait it out)<em>  
><em>What now? Somebody tell me<em>  
><em>What now?<em>

Ichigo sat down hard on the side of his bed and buried his hands in his face. No matter how hard he tried to get over his love for the blue-haired man that had changed his life, it just didn't seem to be working. The happier he was, the harder his loss affected him. There had been numerous times that he'd wanted to share a bit of good news with Grimmjow, only to remember that the man was dead.

A lump formed in his throat and tears stung his eyes ruthlessly, demanding to be set free. He fought valiantly against them, but his heart, coupled with the song playing in the background, only served to make him crumble. He tucked his lips between his teeth as tears rolled down his cheeks. Why the hell did Grimmjow have to die? What was Ichigo supposed to do now? He had so much love inside of him, and he didn't know what to do with it. He'd tried lavishing it on his brother in his own way, but Shiro wasn't being very receptive towards him at the moment, too caught up in his own grief. Then, Ichigo had tried turning the overwhelming energy towards his studies, and that had worked for a while. Until he'd aced a test and reached for his cell to share his great news with the love of his life. That incident had set him back a bit, but he'd managed to overcome it somehow. Now, though? He didn't think he would be able to get past this hitch.

A sob caught in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut against the painful memories of Grimmjow making love to him, of Grimmjow telling him he loved him, of Grimmjow's expressive blue eyes, of Grimmjow's unique voice, of Grimmjow's smile, and lastly of the man's death. Ichigo hid his mouth in his palm between his thumb and forefinger as his knees bounced up and down, his free hand balled into a fist at his side. It was too much. An anguished cry jumped out of him against his will as his heart succumbed to the overbearing pain even without his body's permission. His throat ached, and his eyes burned. He was at a total crossroads. He absolutely didn't know what to do anymore. Yes, he'd made some major transformations in his life, but now he had no one to share them with, and truthfully, that hurt more than anything.

He'd tried being strong – strong for _himself_, strong for his _brother_, but after all was said and done, he was only human. He hurt just like the average person. He might've grown better at hiding it, but it didn't mean it wasn't still there. He ground his teeth together as another sob slipped free. It'd felt like an eternity had gone by with him pretending to be fine, pretending to hold it all together for the sake of his sanity, and for the sake of his brother's. Without him, Shiro would probably be traveling the same destructive path Ichigo had taken the time he and Grimmjow had had that huge misunderstanding. But...Ichigo couldn't do it anymore. With every passing day, a little piece of his heart broke, and a little bit of his soul died. He was sure he would never meet another man like Grimmjow, and the fact that the man was dead was slowly driving him mad. He didn't register the soft knock at his door, but he did register when Shiro's arms went around him, and his brother sat on the bed beside him. Ichigo leaned into his twin's shoulder and continued to fight against his grief.

"I've been stupid, King. I've been _selfish_ an' _stupid_. Ya needed me the whole time, an' I didn' even see it, too busy worryin' 'bout my own problems."

Ichigo scoffed through his tears. "You're going through your own issues. I can't blame you for that."

Shiro snorted as he used his free hand to brush Ichigo's hair off of his forehead. "Yeah, but I shoulda been there for ya too. Yer hurtin' a lot worse than I am, but ya still made it yer business ta make sure I was alright. S'my turn."

Ichigo couldn't find any words to say; he was just trying his hardest not to completely fall apart. Shiro's considerate words were making that hard for him at the moment, however. An unexpected hiccup forced another sob from him, making him clench his teeth and swallow harshly. He couldn't stop the rush of tears and gut-wrenching pain as he shuddered and finally surrendered to his emotions. He curled into himself, burying his face in his lap as he silently cried.

"I miss him _so_ much," he mumbled against his thighs. "Why the fuck did something like this have to happen to us? Do we have _that_ much bad karma? Do _I?"_

Shiro wisely didn't respond. He merely rubbed Ichigo's back as Ichigo allowed himself a moment of open vulnerability.

**El tiempo es dinero – Time is money**

**¿Son estos los hombres que Barragán dijo a su encuentro aquí? - Are these the men who Barragan said to meet here?**

**Translations courtesy of Google Translate, so if it's wrong, you know where to aim your pitchforks and sarcasm. Also, if you feel like you need to say something to _or_ about me, my PM inbox is open. **

**Big thanks to my loves, Farin, Trace, Kill, Dez, Mel, Alyse, Odie, Jordan and Jenny for simply _getting_ me. I love you so much for it, you have no idea! And thank YOU, the readers, for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_I got ni**as down the road_

_Waitin' on an appeal_

_Livin' life through a pen_

_I hope they get that appeal_

_(Yeah)_

_I hope they get that appeal_

A car alarm blared in the distance, interrupting the crooning of Future and Young Scooter and making him jump and whirl in his leather seat. He glanced over his shoulder, checking the deserted street through the rear window of his car before facing front and peering through the windshield. All was quiet, but that didn't mean there weren't eyes where he couldn't see them. Tousen glanced in the rear view mirror as he heard an engine rumbling down the street. Was this the guy? Tousen reached forward and turned down the volume to the music that had been playing softly in the background.

The car pulled in front of his own before it came to a stop and the engine was shut off. A few tense moments went by with Tousen watching the silver vehicle like it held the key to a bank vault. Finally, the driver's door swung open, and a tall, slender figure emerged, dressed in a black hoodie, the hood pulled up over its head, black sweats and black sneakers. Tousen had been skeptical going through with this impromptu meeting because the caller had been anonymous, but had promised information that was invaluable. He'd taken a gamble, but of course, he'd come prepared. He gripped the gun in his lap as he watched the figure quickly make its way to the passenger door of his car. He released the lock and narrowed his eyes as the figure folded long legs into the seat beside him. Once the door was shut, the figure turned to Tousen with a wide-eyed stare.

"Were you followed?"

Tousen scowled as he glanced over his shoulder. "No." He faced the figure again. "Were you?"

"Of course not," the haughty voice huffed.

Tousen smirked and tapped the cool metal of his gun with a long index finger. He met the figure's curiously golden gaze and tilted his head.

"So, whattaya gotta tell me?"

"Do you have what I asked for?"

Tousen sighed, but reached over his seat and withdrew a small duffel bag from the back. He flopped back into place and unzipped the bag, his smirk back in full force at the figure's sharp intake of breath.

"It's all there. Now tell me what you know."

There was a long silence, where the figure just stared through the window, breathing slow and even. At long last, words were forthcoming.

"G had a lover. If you still want your petty revenge, then you can use him."

"You say that shit like it's new news! Ya gotta do better than that!"

He was getting irritated. Please tell him he hadn't risked his own safety, hadn't come up with an obscene amount of money just for facts he was already aware of...

The figure nodded with a small smirk. "I'm sure you know about that, but do you know his name? Do you know where he lives? Do you know who his family is?"

Tousen's ears seemed to perk at that. He disguised the small budding of hope in his chest with a frown.

"What're you tryna say?"

"I'm saying that I know all that and more."

Oh, this could be good. Tousen held eye contact with the golden eyes that were shimmering with amusement.

"OK. I'm listenin'."

XOXOXO

"This is dumb."

Tatsuki rolled her eyes at her long-time friend and partner. Nel had been complaining the entire night, and Tatsuki was quickly becoming fed up with the childish behavior.

"You didn't have to come if you didn't want to, ya know."

"Yeah, but I was bored. I didn't think I would come here and be bored too."

"Genevieve asked us to do surveillance here for a reason. Now, do you wanna get paid or not?"

Nel sucked her teeth and pouted as she folded her arms across her abundant chest and flopped back against the plush leather seat. Tatsuki glanced over her shoulder and through the rear window, checking on the car parked behind theirs. She wished she could have been partnered with her girlfriend, or even Nel's girlfriend, Halibel. At least she could have had a few hours of silence in order to think. However, they'd agreed that it would be safer for them to split up, just in case they were spotted and recognized.

Tatsuki turned forward and stared hard at the run-down, brown house a little ways down the block. She didn't know who they were waiting for, or who they were supposed to be watching, but she did know that this was Blood territory. Things had calmed down after the word had spread about Starrk's and G's deaths. The Bloods were no longer picking fights with the rival gang, The Crips, but she figured that had a lot more to do with the recent robberies. She smiled, wondering what the head honcho was thinking. Of course, he had to be pissed. She and the other girls had robbed the gang of over three million dollars in hard product, cash and weapons from multiple stash houses. Were they planning a retaliation? Or had they already done so? Not only that, but The Crips had gone incredibly silent as well. Probably mourning and trying to recuperate after the deaths of not one, but two of their leaders. Little did they know...

The door to the house opened, spilling a dim, yellow light across the dilapidated porch. A short, dark-haired man appeared and looked both ways down the street. Luckily, the windows to their vehicles were tinted because the man paused and seemed to study the two SUVs. After a few tense moments, the suit-wearing man descended the stairs of the porch and headed for a black, luxury sedan. He climbed inside and drove off, Tatsuki watching aptly the entire time until the vehicle disappeared around a corner. Tatsuki faced Nel and sighed. She was bored too, but this had to mean something, right? The look on Nel's face mirrored Tatsuki's own.

"Ya think that's who we were supposed to be watching out for?" the green-haired woman asked.

"I think so. But if that's who we were waiting for, this shit has gone deeper than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know who that was?" Tatsuki asked, disbelief coloring her tone.

Nel shook her head with a frown. "Am I supposed ta know?"

"Fuck my life," Tatsuki groaned as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the warm steering wheel.

"I'm jus' yankin' yer chain, Tats. I know who that guy was. Like you said, though, if we were s'posed ta be lookin' out for him, this is bad news."

Just as the words finished leaving Nel's mouth, Tatsuki's cell phone buzzed from within the middle console. She sat up and lifted the dark lid, figuring it was probably Hal or Yoruichi calling. When she checked the readout, her eyebrows shot up.

"Hey, what's up?" she greeted.

Genevieve's voice came through the speaker, husky and amused. "Ladies, meet us at the warehouse by the docks, please. There's something we need to discuss. And bro's not very patient, so maybe you could make your way post haste?"

Tatsuki felt ice form in her gut. Something felt strange, but she had no idea what it was. She knew that Genevieve and her brother worked for The Man, who owned almost everything in the town, and that was a daunting factor. If the two wanted to get rid of Tatsuki and the rest of the girls, they could easily do so. Hell, they certainly had the resources. But why would they after sending them on a job? Things weren't adding up.

"We'll be there," she replied and ended the connection.

Nel stared at her, face serious for once. "I don't know what to think anymore, Tats. Somethin' 'bout this situation is rubbing me the wrong way."

"Yeah, I know. Nothing we can do until we figure out what's goin' on, though," Tatsuki answered as she started the vehicle. She glanced in the rear view mirror and nodded to herself as the SUV behind them started up as well, the headlights flashing on. "Besides, we got enough fire power in these two trucks to conquer a small country. I'm not really worried too much."

Nel chuckled, but Tatsuki caught the look of unease that had skated across the other woman's face. Whatever they were walking into had them both on the edge of their seats. She just hoped they would live to laugh about this night on another day. She peeled away from the curb, Rich Homie Quan's "Type of Way" blasting from the speakers.

XOXOXO

"Mr. Hanakari! Do you need a trip to the nurse? This is the third time I've called on you to pay attention!"

Jinta jerked out of his thoughts and focused on the man standing at the front of the classroom. He shook his head and lowered his eyes.

"No, Sir."

The teacher went on with the lesson, while Jinta allowed his gaze to settle on the empty seat across from him once more. Tears stung his eyes as he swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He hated this class now, when not too long ago, he'd loved it. It was because there was one crucial element missing: Di Roy. Jinta turned away and faced the window to his left. He would never be able to recover from what was the worst moment in his life. He'd finally gathered the courage to confess his feelings to the boy he'd loved for so long, had finally had those feelings returned, only to have Di snatched away from him right before his eyes.

Jinta covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach rolled and his chest tightened. He couldn't stay in class anymore. He raised his hand, tears threatening to spill over his lashes as he waved to get the teacher's attention. Once he had it, he cleared his throat and tried to disguise the fact that he was teetering on the verge of crying in class.

"I think I _will_ go to the nurse."

The teacher frowned at him as if he were about to oppose, but the man must've noticed the look of desperation and despair on Jinta's face because he pressed his lips together and nodded before turning to another student. Jinta hurried out towards the door, ignoring the whispering behind his back.

"Yeah, they were best friends," one girl hissed across the aisle.

"Oh, no wonder he's so different now."

"I heard Di Roy was shot."

"I heard that too."

Jinta couldn't take anymore. The hushed words were making him relive that night in his mind, and it was driving him insane. Thinking about how he would never see Di Roy again was too painful to bear. As he shut the classroom door behind himself, he sniffed, and it was like a tub overflowed. His eyes began leaking uncontrollably as he sprinted to his locker. He wasn't even going to the nurse; he just wanted to go home, where he could be alone and deal with his grief in private.

Once he made it to his locker, he grabbed his backpack and hauled ass through the halls, ignoring the security guard at the front door as he sped past her. He didn't stop running until he was home. He knew his father was going to scold him for cutting class again, but he couldn't help it. School just wasn't the same without that light-haired, braces sporting teen around. Jinta passed his blond father, who was standing at the register, wearing his usual outfit of beige tunic and green, linen pants. His green and beige bucket hat was on the counter, so Jinta caught the full extent of the steel gray eyes honed in on his face. He knew he looked terrible because he felt even worse, but he wasn't quite ready to face his old man yet. He swept through the small candy shop towards the back, where the door leading to their upstairs apartment was located.

He got to his room, tossed his backpack aside after locking the door and flopped down on the bed. There, he let his vulnerability consume him. What was he supposed to do now? He'd grown accustomed to talking to Di everyday, grown accustomed to seeing him, touching him, kissing him, loving him... Now that Di was dead...

He choked on a sob as he clenched his eyes shut. His glasses were pressed against his nose rather harshly, but he didn't care. He would never see Di again unless it was in a photo, and he wasn't ready for that. Not in the least bit.

A soft knock at the door alerted him to his father's presence, but Jinta didn't want to talk. He didn't want to do anything except lay in his misery until it subsided. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the remote for his stereo. After clicking the power on, he raised the volume until he could no longer hear his father's knocking. He know the man meant well, but there was nothing the blond could tell him that would change the way Jinta felt at the moment.

_Now, how the fuck I'm 'posed to say this?_

_You see, my ni**a just lost his son, while I'm here huggin' on my daughter_

_I grip her harder_

_Kiss her on the head as I cry for a bit_

_Thinkin' of some bullshit to tell him like_

_It'll be OK_

_You'll be straight, it'll be aight_

_Man, fuck that shit, whatever you need, yo, I got it_

_Whether it's money or some weed or puttin' in work, fuck it, then, I'm ridin'..._

Jinta cringed as Di Roy's favorite song, "Blessed" by Schoolboy Q, floated from the oversized speaker in the corner of his room. Sure, just what he needed to hear right now. He sat up and stared over at the stereo like it was conspiring against him before he shut it off. He really couldn't listen to anything that reminded him of Di Roy. But...did it really matter? Even when he wasn't listening to music, his thoughts were wrapped up in the death of his best friend and only love. Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach as he envisioned the smug look on the shooter's face. Jinta _knew_ that guy. He'd seen him around the school a few times with a couple of the students who thought they were tough because they were part of a gang.

Menacing thoughts began whirling in his mind, distracting him from the sight of his father walking carefully into his room. Once the older man was next to the bed, Jinta's eyes focused on him before rolling with exasperation.

"Dad, I asked you not to do that."

Kisuke Urahara shifted his stance and stared down at Jinta, gray eyes hard, yet concerned. "Son, why do you keep leaving school? I understand that you're upset about your best friend's death, but you still need your education. What's going on?"

How the hell was he going to explain to his father that Di Roy had been more than just his best friend? His old man didn't have the slightest clue that Jinta was gay, and he kind of wanted to keep it that way. His father was cool and oftentimes aloof enough to overlook Jinta's usual mischief, but Jinta was certain the older man would never understand. Besides, he just couldn't stand to see the look of disappointment he knew would follow his confession.

"I wasn't feeling well," he lied, averting his gaze.

His father had a look that could make a nun nervous.

"Jinta," Kisuke started, but Jinta hopped to his feet and sidled over to the door.

"I'll be back in a little bit. I think I just need to go for a walk to clear my head."

"Jinta, we need to talk about this."

But he was already out the door and halfway down the stairs. He hated lying to his father, but he couldn't think of a better way to deal with the situation. He felt like his hands were tied, and his grief exhausted him to the point where he just couldn't think straight at times.

He left the store and hopped in his car. He never took it to school because it helped him avoid the leeches who would only talk to him for a ride. No, thanks. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his keys. He sat for a while, staring at the key chain Di had given him before he died. It was a marijuana leaf and had been meant as an inside joke, but now, it held special meaning. Jinta shook his head, stuck the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb, headed for the river. He needed some peace and quiet in order to come to the decision that was forming in his mind.

XOXOXO

"That's all for today."

The men sighed as one as they gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Grimmjow grinned. Training was going well. So well, in fact, one would think the group of men he was in charge of were an entirely different group. They were no longer able to be lazy and do whatever they pleased. They had a strict routine that Grimmjow made sure to enforce, and the results were that of an army worthy of The Man's requirements.

Shinji sidled up beside him with a smirk. "Think maybe we'll be outta here faster than we thought, huh?"

Grimmjow nodded as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He'd taken to smoking them instead of his beloved marijuana, even though Barragan had plenty lying around his large mansion. Grimmjow was trying to wean himself off of the potent stuff, and he needed a clear head being around a bunch of men filled to the brim with testosterone and tension. Especially that Luis. Luis was a difficult character and made his displeasure with Grimmjow's authority known at every opportunity that arose. Grimmjow just found it amusing. There was nothing the man could do or say that would change the current situation, which Barragan had tried fruitlessly to explain to the dark-haired, former Captain.

Grimmjow lit up and inhaled deeply as he and Shinji left the bowels of the headquarters building. The trip was silent, but he knew that they both had a lot on their minds. Mainly their boyfriends. Shinji talked about seeing Shiro everyday, and Grimmjow was positive that his best friend was worried sick over losing the albino. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms, so Grimmjow understood. But then again, he was worried about his own relationship. Ichigo thought he was dead, so there was nothing keeping the orange-haired man from moving on. Except Grimmjow, of course. He wouldn't stand for it, even if the next time he saw Ichigo was years down the road. Although, like Shinji had mentioned, with the way the training for The Man's men were going, it looked like they would be heading back to America a lot sooner than planned.

They made it outside the building and into the sweltering heat. Dust rose into the air and threatened to clog his throat, but Grimmjow avoided it by breathing through his nose when he wasn't inhaling cigarette smoke. He was growing accustomed to the change in weather, so his body automatically began adjusting.

"I wanna go home," Shinji sighed as they slowly walked to the vehicle Barragan had given them to use during their stay. "I need to fix things before it's too late, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know."

This was a conversation they'd had many a time, and while Grimmjow was a little tired of talking about it, he tolerated it, allowing Shinji to vent.

"Dontcha wanna see Ichigo?"

Grimmjow flicked away the spent cigarette as he climbed into the car, jaw tensing with frustration. "Of course, I wanna see 'im. I don't want 'im thinkin' I'm dead, but what can we do right now?"

Shinji climbed into the passenger seat and sat back against the soft, beige leather. "I know. I'm just tired of all this. How long we gotta stay here?"

"I'm thinking we'll be able to leave next month. That should give these guys enough time to get used to the routine and being an actual army, rather than a bunch of lazy good-for-nothings."

"Man, I hope so. 'Sides, this fuckin' heat is drivin' me nuts."

Grimmjow chuckled as they pulled away from the building and headed down the dirt road towards Barragan's mansion. "Stop whining," he chided with a smirk. "I know it's hard, but ya gotta be patient, Shin. I wanna go home too. Hell, we gotta lotta shit ta do when we get back, our relationships included."

"I never knew you were so wise, Grimm."

"Fuck you."

Shinji snorted through a chortle before going silent and focusing his gaze through the window. The rest of the ride was a quiet one, giving Grimmjow ample time to think about his younger lover. He hated the fact that Ichigo didn't know he was alive and well and thinking about him. Then, he gave an internal laugh. Who would have thought he'd allow himself to fall in love again? Who would have thought he'd allow another man to get as close to him as Ichigo had? It was unnerving as much as it was amusing. He ran a hand through his hair as they got closer to the mansion. He wanted to see Ichigo so badly, it ached. At night, all he dreamed about was the orange-haired man and his warm, brown eyes; that grin that made Grimmjow's gut flip, and that maddeningly soft skin. He couldn't wait to hold the guy again.

It bothered and frustrated him to no end that he couldn't be there with Ichigo after finally letting the man know how he felt about him, and after hearing how Ichigo felt about him confirmed aloud. He'd always had an idea that Ichigo loved him. Why else would the younger man pursue him after all the shit that Grimmjow had put him through? They had climbed a mountain of obstacles together, and just when Grimmjow had thought they were all over, the shit had really hit the fan and torn them apart again.

Grimmjow pulled the car into the circular drive of the mansion and cut the engine. Before he could look over at Shinji, the blond was already out the door and heading for the front of the house. Shinji had been itching to make some type of contact with Shiro, but Grimmjow had been advising against it. What if he told Shiro that Grimmjow was still alive? What if Shiro told Ichigo? Shit would just be a mess all over again – something that Grimmjow wouldn't be able to repair this time around. He was sure if Ichigo got wind of news of that caliber, the man would think that Grimmjow had just lied to him and abandoned him again.

Grimmjow followed Shinji into the house, his stomach gurgling impatiently. He hadn't eaten since that morning, and it was already evening. It didn't help things that the house was filled with a delicious smell. He let his nose lead him to the kitchen, where he spied an apron-sporting Hiyori at the stove. She turned to face them, her brown eyes lighting up when she spotted them.

"Oh! Grimmjow, I made dinner," she said with a coy grin.

Grimmjow wanted to shake his head in amusement. Even though he had given Hiyori every reason not to fancy him, she still did. Shinji brushed past him and stopped at the stove, where he peered into the pans with a skeptical brow raised.

"Wha's this?"

He was pointing at the pan closest to him, but Hiyori smacked his hand away with a frown. "That's rude! Don't be a jerk, Shinji!"

"Wha'? I jus' asked what the fuck it is! Who's the jerk?"

"You are! Besides, I didn't cook for you; I cooked for Grimmjow!"

"Oh, my God, girl! Look, read my lips. He. Doesn't. Want. You. For one thing, you're too young. For another...he's already taken!"

"What do _you_ know?!"

"More than _you_, obviously! I'm his best friend, remember?"

The shouting match that Hiyori and Shinji engaged in whenever around one another was pure comedy, but Grimmjow let it go on. Shinji needed an outlet for his frustration and Hiyori...well, she needed to get the picture quick, fast and in a hurry.

"Alright, alright. That's enough of that, children," a deep voice stated from sliding doors that led to the patio.

Grimmjow turned to Barragan with a sideways smirk. He liked the older man. There was something about him that was just unmistakably paternal.

"Grimmjow, you have a phone call. My brother wishes to speak with you."

That was shocking. Grimmjow hadn't heard from Javier personally since they'd arrived in Colombia. He wondered what the man could want.

"OK. Where's the phone?"

"You can take the call out on the patio. I have a cordless at the table," Barragan explained before heading over to Shinji and Hiyori, who had gone back to squabbling like grade schoolers.

Grimmjow nodded and left the kitchen through the sliding glass door. The patio was beautiful and led to a lavish backyard, equipped with a pool, jacuzzi, grill area and lounge chairs. He paused at a large, round, glass and stainless steel table, where a white phone stood erect on the surface. He lowered himself into one of the wicker chairs and pressed the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ah, _hola_, Grimmjow. _Como esta_?"

"I'm good," he answered. He didn't really want to beat around the bush with niceties, however, so he directed the conversation along. "What's goin' on?"

"Hmm. My brother tells me that you've successfully transformed my men into something closely resembling a real army. Congratulations."

"Thanks. All they needed was some real structure and a strict routine. They should be fine without me soon enough."

"I take it you're ready to come home."

"More than."

Javier's deep chuckle floated over the phone line. "I understand. You've done well in holding up your end of the bargain, so I've done my part as well. Upon your return, I've arranged a few things for you. How much longer do you think you will need to be in Colombia?"

"'Bout a month, tops."

"Fine. I'll make the necessary plans."

"Thanks. Is that all?"

"Ah, no, actually, it isn't. Someone would like to speak to you."

Grimmjow's eyebrow went up. Who in the world? Before he could ask, he heard as the phone exchanged hands and another person came on the line.

"Grimmjow?"

Ah...

A warm smile blossomed across his face. "Hey, Ms. Retsu."

"Haha! What is this 'Miss' business? We've gone over this already, no?"

"Sorry...Retsu. How are you?"

"I'm perfectly fine!" she snapped. "How are you? And why haven't you called me? You left and didn't even say goodbye. Shame on you!"

Grimmjow chuckled as he sat back against the seat. "I'm fine, and I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I knew I was coming back, that's why."

"Hmph!"

"Aww, come on, now. Don't be that way," he teased. The woman had become like a mother to him during his stay in Javier's home, not to mention, their shared history. It left him with a bunch of butterflies in his gut. He'd always wanted a real mom. Maybe now... "Are you really mad at me?"

Retsu sighed. "No, I suppose not. But only if you promise to call me at least once a week. I need to know that you're OK. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Have you been eating and sleeping enough?"

"Yeah, I have. I even gained a couple of pounds."

"Excellent! When you left here, I was worried, but if you're doing fine, then I can relax somewhat. When are you coming home?"

"Ah, I'm not really sure, but I'm hopin' in about a month."

Grimmjow traced a ring on the table that had been left by a perspiring glass as he tried not to fidget. No one had ever interrogated him, while making him feel so secure at the same time. It was nice.

"That's good news, yes? When you return, you'll introduce me to this Ichigo boy, right?"

"Retsu," he started, but she cut him off.

"I won't take no for an answer. I may not have given birth to you, but I still feel like you're _my_ son."

The words not only threw him for a loop, but they also heated his gut and made those butterflies go crazy. It took a moment for him to speak without sounding as though he were fighting tears.

"If everything works out 'tween me an' him, I'll introduce 'im to you," he said quietly.

"Good! Ah, I have to go now. Javier is giving me his hungry look," she laughed. Grimmjow joined her, until she sobered, her voice lowering and going serious. "Take care of yourself, and be careful, Grimmjow, OK?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Goodbye, sweetheart. We'll talk another time."

"Later, Retsu."

The connection was ended, leaving Grimmjow with the phone in his hand and his eyes on the table top. He didn't know what to think first. Of course, he remembered the woman from his childhood. He remembered how she had been the one to feed him, bathe him, and clothe him whenever his parents had been too stung out to recall that they had a child they were responsible for. She would let him spend the night and sleep on her soft, comfortable couch, where he could watch TV all night, even though she scolded him for staying up so late. She had spoiled him like he had been her own child, just like she'd mentioned. Thinking back on it, Retsu had been more of a mother to him than his own mom. To think she still cared so deeply for him was a bit surprising, but pleasantly so.

He climbed to his feet and reentered the house, smiling at the sight of Barragan shaking his head at the still bickering pair. He took a seat at the table beside the older man, who glanced at him with an all-knowing grin.

"All good?"

Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. All good."

**XxxxxxX**

Dinner had been excellent. Grimmjow hadn't really expected such skills from Hiyori, but he couldn't deny the truth. Fried _yuca_, _pernil_, yellow rice and beans with fresh avocado on the side had been his meal, and now, he was completely stuffed. He left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist as he made his way to his bed. Shinji was across the room, draped over the couch in front of the TV, a Spanish soap opera blaring from the speakers. The blond was dozing, dressed in a pair of Adventure Time boxers. Grimmjow absently shook his head as he dropped the towel and slipped into a pair of dark-blue boxer briefs. Afterward, he grabbed his headphones and iPod from the nightstand and crawled beneath the sheet. The windows were open in the room, allowing a balmy breeze to slip inside, and within minutes, he was lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of Kelly Rowland's voice.

_Just wanna keep all your attention, baby_

_(Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey)_

_It turns me on to know I turn you on_

_(Yeah, OK, OK, OK, hey)_

_Well, can I grab the wheel and drive you crazy_

_(Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey)_

_Sit in the front row and watch me perform_

_(You do that and you gon' learn today)_

_I be representin', representin'_

_(Get on that thang, get on that thang, get on that thang and represent)_

_I be representin', representin'_

_(Get on that thang, get on that thang, get on that thang)_

_Watch how I put it down_

_Grimmjow jerked awake at the wet sensation ghosting across his lips. When his eyes opened, they immediately widened at the sight of orange hair and brown eyes filled with lust. At first, he wasn't sure what to do. What the hell was going on? Ichigo pulled back and gave his signature sideways smirk, a sure sign that the man was aroused and in a teasing mood. Grimmjow reached for the lithe figure, but Ichigo danced out of the way, his head shaking back and forth, and the index finger of his right hand doing the same. Full lips mouthed "Not yet," making Grimmjow arch a brow._

_Ichigo had on a white t-shirt that hugged his torso, and black boxer briefs that were molded to his tanned thighs and perfect rear. Ichigo slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, the cotton material rising and revealing the man's toned abdomen. Grimmjow wanted to grab him and wrestle the garment off of him, but he would admit that he was enjoying the show. Ichigo ran his free hand over the indentations of his abdomen, devilish smirk set in stone. Finally, the shirt was tugged over his head and tossed aside carelessly. However, Ichigo was far from finished. Brown eyes rolled shut as Ichigo ran one hand over his chest, the other one up his long neck until the fingers slipped into his mouth. Grimmjow bit his bottom lip, the dirtiest thoughts careening into his mind at the speed of lightning, the impact just as shocking. He growled under his breath as he watched Ichigo saunter over. The younger man straddled Grimmjow's hips on the bed as he lowered his head and gently kissed him._

_Grimmjow's hands automatically went to Ichigo's sides and tenderly traveled over the man's ribs as he deepened the kiss. Just when it was getting good, Ichigo pulled out of it, that smirk back in full force. Grimmjow frowned as he tried to comprehend why Ichigo wasn't still kissing him. Brown eyes glittered with amusement as Ichigo sat back, his butt resting against Grimmjow's groin. Grimmjow gritted his teeth, unsure of what was going through Ichigo's mind, but thoroughly enjoying it all the same. Ichigo guided Grimmjow's hands to his thighs before he reached down and toyed with the elastic waistband of his underwear. Grimmjow's eyes immediately went between Ichigo's legs, and he grinned when he noticed the bulge there. Just as he went to reach for it, Ichigo placed Grimmjow's hand back on his thigh, his head shaking again. _

_Ichigo rose to his knees and lowered his underwear at a snail's pace, until his erection was revealed, slapping against his lower abdomen. Grimmjow damned near chewed his bottom lip off as he watched Ichigo grasp himself and begin stroking. He tried again to reach for the man's arousal, but Ichigo stopped him, once more positioning Grimmjow's hand on his thigh. Grimmjow growled, frustrated. He wanted to touch Ichigo. He wanted to be the one pleasuring the younger man. _

_What was Ichigo up to?_

_Ichigo smirked again, obviously amused by Grimmjow's agitation, and just as obviously not giving a shit. He wrapped his hand around himself again and slowly began stroking. This time, his head fell back as he moaned softly. Grimmjow's heart rate skyrocketed and his breathing escalated as he avidly watched. Pre-cum beaded at the head of Ichigo's straining erection, and Grimmjow thought he would die if he didn't get his hands on the man right...fucking...now. His hands tightened on Ichigo's thighs, kneading them in order to keep the appendages busy, but he was quickly losing patience. He was hard as cement and wanted nothing more than to get this show on the road. _

_Ichigo's hand sped up, working his shaft expertly, and the noises he made. Grimmjow huffed as heat filled his groin and spread out to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Ichigo's hips rolled as he thrust into his own hand, his bottom lip catching between his teeth for a brief moment before a gasping moan was wrenched from him. He couldn't take anymore. He needed to fuck his boyfriend...ASAP. He was about to reverse their positions, when Ichigo finally, FINALLY, guided Grimmjow's hand to his desperate excitement. Grimmjow happily held tight and stroked firmly, making Ichigo cry out before pitching forward to kiss him. Ichigo's hips were in constant motion at this point, and Grimmjow loved it. He slid his free hand down Ichigo's back until he reached the man's round bottom, where he palmed and squeezed, making sure to aggressively deepen their kiss. _

_This was more like it. Ichigo pulled out of the kiss, placed his mouth next to Grimmjow's ear, and growled low in his chest as Grimmjow probed his opening. He nipped the lobe of Grimmjow's ear, his breathing heavy and hurried. They were on the right track now. No more of that teasing crap. Grimmjow built a swift rhythm with his hand and leaned forward, where he latched onto Ichigo's neck with his lips. He licked and sucked, driving the younger man crazy. He loved hearing Ichigo when he was being pleasured. It was erotic as fuck._

_Ichigo suddenly shuddered and carefully extracted himself from Grimmjow's grip. Before Grimmjow could protest, however, Ichigo was on the move, his body snaking over Grimmjow's, leaving wet kisses and trails along the taller man's neck and down over his chest and abdomen until he reached the waistband of Grimmjow's underwear. Ichigo paused and sent Grimmjow a mischievous smirk as he slid a finger beneath the gray elastic. He snapped the material against Grimmjow's hips a few times before he gripped both sides and began maneuvering the underwear down over Grimmjow's hips and thighs. Once he was freed of the cumbersome boxer briefs, Grimmjow spread his legs and put his hands behind his head, a tiny lift to the corner of his mouth the only indication that he was amused. Ichigo ran his hands up the sides of Grimmjow's thighs, his movements almost reverent before he leaned forward and licked a long stripe up the underside of Grimmjow's length. _

_Grimmjow let his head fall back as he grunted. The grunt turned into a low moan as Ichigo engulfed the head of Grimmjow's pulsing erection with his warm, wet mouth. Just as Ichigo began taking more of Grimmjow's shaft between his lips, a pillow assaulted him in the face, making sit up in indignation._

"What the fuck!" he snapped, eyes shooting open as he looked around wildly.

Shinji was sauntering over to his bed, the down-filled culprit beside Grimmjow's bed on the floor. "We _definitely_ need ta go home. Yer fuckin' humpin' yer bed, Grimm. Go take a cold shower, 'er handle that problem a'yers. Pissin' me off."

Grimmjow took closer stock of himself and winced. His sheets were twisted around his legs, his iPod was still under the pillow he'd been sleeping on, but the headphones had come out of his ears, and he was so hard, his dick was on the verge of bursting through the hole of his underwear.

_Shit_.

So, all of that had been a dream? What a harsh reminder of the reality he was dealing with. He tossed aside his sheet and threw his legs over the side of the bed before running a hand through his tousled hair. Shinji was right. They _definitely_ had to go home.

XOXOXO

He'd been trying his hardest to avoid the guy, but it had become impossible. Shuuhei was like a pitbull with a bone when he wanted something, and apparently, he wanted Ichigo to party with him again. So, Ichigo had caved. When Shuuhei had approached him in the hallway after Ichigo's Creative Writing class, he'd given in. What was the harm in going to a party? Hell, he deserved it after all the shit he'd gone through and was currently dealing with. All he had to do was make it clear to Shuuhei and Renji that he wasn't interested in going that route with them, and things would be fine.

The party turned out to be another rave at Shuuhei's father's warehouse. That was fine. There were plenty of drinks and the music was amazing. Ichigo didn't know who the DJ was, but they were playing all of his favorite dubstep songs. He was really having a good time.

"Yo, Ichigo. You look like yer havin' fun."

Ichigo turned to the voice that had been rumbling into his ear and smirked. Renji was still an attractive guy, no matter how much Ichigo tried to ignore it. Tonight, the red head had on a pair of chocolate-brown board shorts and a tan, sleeveless tee, the words "Surf's Up" across the front in a myriad of brown, aqua-blue, orange and mint-green. He was still stacked like a brick wall, and his blood-red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Ichigo cleared his throat as he looked away.

"Yeah, I am!" he hollered over the pounding music.

Renji's arm slipped around his waist as the taller man guided Ichigo through the crowd towards the bar area. "Why don't I get you a drink? I mean, it's only right since ya finally agreed to party with us again."

Ichigo thought about it as they maneuvered through the sea of swaying bodies. What harm could one drink do? He'd come to enjoy himself, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to get a light buzz. He wasn't going to smoke this time around, and he wasn't going to let himself get completely wasted, either. Hell, Shiro had already cussed him out for going in the first place, claiming he didn't trust Shuuhei or Renji after what Ichigo had told him had occurred at the last party. Ichigo wasn't about to give the two men any leeway. He nodded at the red head when they stopped at the bar. "I'll just take one!"

Renji nodded back and glanced at the bartender, who smiled at Renji before turning to fix a drink. Ichigo scowled in confusion. Renji hadn't even asked for anything.

"What was that about?!" he shouted.

Renji shrugged and grinned. "He knows what I like!"

"Oh."

Ichigo figured that made sense. Renji and Shuuhei partied like it was a full-time job, so it stood to chance that the bartender would be used to their preferences. When the bartender returned to the counter, he set two large cups on the table. Both were filled with a slushy, electric blue mixture.

"What's this?!" Ichigo inquired.

Renji leaned towards him, but still had to yell over the music. "It's called a Nemo!"

"...Like the fish?!"

Renji chuckled and picked up his cup. "Yeah! Like the fish! Let's go to a table!"

Ichigo nodded as he grabbed the remaining cup, body pulsing along with the bass of La Roux's "In For The Kill (Skream's Let's Get Ravey Remix)." The song was close to hypnotizing as he moved on autopilot to the table Renji had indicated. Once there, he plopped into a seat and took a tentative sip of the drink. It was delicious. He licked his lips as he glanced at Renji.

"I like it!"

Renji nodded with another grin. "I'm glad! Drink up!"

Ichigo took the taller man's advice and leaned back against the seat. He let his eyes roam the cavernous warehouse, rainbow colored lights blinking and flashing, while bodies moved in unison on the floor. A fog machine produced a cloud of smoke that traveled throughout the room, and water misted from the ceiling, cooling the perspiring bodies below. Black lights illuminated everything white, and the majority of the dancers sported glowing necklaces, earrings, bracelets, gloves, rings – one girl even wore a light-up bustier. Raves always drew interesting crowds, so Ichigo expected nothing less.

He took another long sip from his drink and hummed in pleasure. The ice was cold and almost gave him brain freeze, but the taste was too good to babysit. Add to that the fact that Renji was behaving himself and could even be called good company at the moment, and Ichigo had to say he was immensely enjoying himself. He'd have to tell Shiro what a good time he had. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, Shuuhei strolled over to the table and sat down beside Ichigo. He had a cigarette between his lips and a cup in his hand.

"Are you regretting coming out tonight yet?" he asked, dark eyes glossy

Ichigo shook his head. "Nah, not yet!"

Shuuhei chuckled as he positioned the cigarette between his fingers. "That's good news!"

The table went quiet as song after song pumped through the multiple speakers. Adam F.'s "When The Rain Is Gone" came on after La Roux, followed by Nero's "Must Be The Feeling (Kill The Noise Remix)," and then, Krewella's "One Minute (DotEXE's Dopest Dope Remix)" coursed through the warehouse. Before Ichigo knew it, his cup was empty, and he was extremely _hot_. Sweat dampened his hair and armpits, and soon enough created a layer over his whole body. He was thirsty as hell, and he felt like he could fucking _fly_. What the hell was going on?

Movement to his left caught his eye and turned his attention to Renji, who had just reclaimed his seat, two bottles of water in hand. Ichigo eyed the perspiring plastic bottles, not quite understanding why he was suddenly so thirsty, but knowing for certain that he had to get his hands on one of those bottles. Renji grinned and slid one over.

"Ya looked thirsty, so I brought ya some water."

"Oh, my God, you're a fuckin' lifesaver," Ichigo said as he hurriedly uncapped the water and drank deeply.

_Shit_.

He downed the entire contents in a matter of seconds. He licked his lips, still a bit parched even as he bounced in his seat to the song currently playing: Klaypex's "Chinter's Will." He felt like he could dance forever and never get tired, not to mention, like his body could move in ways that he never though possible. He started to climb to his feet and head to the dance floor, where he could work off some of the excess energy streaking through him, but he was suddenly boxed in between two, strong bodies. His skin had become incredibly sensitive, so just the brush of their arms was enough to have him leaning into the light touches.

In the back of his mind, he knew that something was wrong with him. Someone had probably laced his drink, but he had no idea with what. And he was too helpless to find out at the moment. His body was too busy being controlled by whatever was swimming through his system. Renji reached over and turned Ichigo's face to him by placing a hand on Ichigo's jaw. Russet eyes bore into Ichigo, demanding and aggressive.

"How do you feel?" the red head asked.

Ichigo grinned against his own will. "Like a _star_," he murmured before leaning in and kissing the corner of Renji's mouth.

What the fuck was he doing?! This wasn't right! He didn't really want this!

Renji smirked and pressed their lips together. Ichigo found himself opening his mouth to Renji's experienced tongue, absently noting the arm wrapping around his waist from behind. Another set of lips left wet kisses down the back of his neck, even as he kissed Renji like his life depended on it. Shuuhei grew bold and cupped Ichigo through his cargo shorts, creating an instant erection. Ichigo moaned quietly as he leaned even closer to Renji, his own hand forming a mind of its own as it slid into Renji's lap.

Renji broke away from the kiss with a wolfish grin. "Let's take this somewhere else."

Ichigo had an idea of where Renji was talking about. There was a small room in the warehouse that had been transformed into a bedroom for the times that Shuuhei was too messed up to make it home. It even had a bathroom.

Shuuhei hummed into Ichigo's ear from behind, making Ichigo shudder. Everything was so sensitive. "I think that's a good idea, Ren."

Both men stood and helped Ichigo to his feet. Ichigo felt like he had no legs. Maybe he was floating? He giggled. He was inwardly alarmed at his behavior, but soon enough, his conscience shut down on him, and he just went with the flow. He was led to the room, where Shuuhei locked the door behind them, the music muffled considerably, but still loud enough to understand clearly. Gemini's "Feel Stronger" crept into the room and almost put Ichigo in trance.

_Sometimes I feel weaker_

_When my head hits the speaker_

_Sometimes I feel stronger_

_When I wanna make it long (long)_

_The beat, it's around me_

_Kicks and snares, no boundaries_

_When the love of the music_

_Takes me low, low, low, low..._

Ichigo flopped onto the bed, stomach first, a huge grin plastered to his face. Not even a few seconds later, two large hands groped his backside, kneading and massaging. He moaned and glanced over his shoulder to see who had a hold of his ass. Renji met his gaze head-on, his former smirk gone, replaced with a predatory look.

Ichigo climbed to his knees on the bed and faced the red head, who crawled onto the bed as well, gathering Ichigo into his arms before resuming their kissing from earlier. Renji was a good kisser. His hands knew exactly where to go, and his tongue was aggressive and precise. As they kissed, Renji gently pushed Ichigo onto his back, and Ichigo felt his belt and shorts being undone. Renji's hand distracted him as it slipped beneath his t-shirt, the fingers sliding over his left nipple. Ichigo moaned into the heated lip-lock, his left arm going around Renji's neck. His body was absolutely on fire, and he was still thirsty. However, his thirst took a back seat when he realized his pants and underwear were gone, and Shuuhei was enthusiastically sucking him off.

"Oh, my _God_," he whispered as he pulled out of the kiss to look down at the dark-haired man. "Shit, that feels _so_ good," he moaned.

Shuuhei wasted no time picking up speed, his head bobbing up and down, and his hand working what his mouth didn't. Renji gave a quiet chuckle before kissing Ichigo again and guiding the shorter man's hand to his own shorts. Ichigo quickly caught on. He undid Renji's shorts and slid the waist down as far as he could get them without separating their mouths. He was oddly anxious to see what the red head was slinging between his legs. When Renji's dick sprang free from the plaid boxers he wore, Ichigo grunted and arched a brow.

It was big.

No wonder Shuuhei couldn't leave him alone.

Ichigo wrapped a hand around the thick, already erect shaft and stroked a couple of times. The flesh twitched and pulsed between his fingers, and Renji was the first to pull out of the kiss. He buried his face in Ichigo's neck and groaned.

"Mmm," the red head hummed, deep voice going even lower. "Faster. Don't stop yet."

Ichigo felt a spike of arousal spear through his groin at the heated commands. This whole situation had gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds, and Ichigo had no idea how to slow it down. Not only that, but his body didn't want him to, either. Without warning, his back arched dramatically as Shuuhei sucked a little harder and focused on the head of his length.

"Ah!" he cried, body shuddering. He was already close to his peak, so when Shuuhei gently grasped his balls and rolled them around the palm of his hand, while continuing to suck him off, he exploded like dynamite. "Fuck, yes!"

Renji lifted his head, russet eyes amused. "That was fast. I take it the Molly has you extra sensitive?"

_Molly?!_

_Oh, damn. Shiro was right not to trust these two_.

**It is currently 3:16 AM. I ain't proofreadin' jack, ya heard? Maybe later. Right now, I hope you guys just enjoy the chapter. And please (is asking very nicely) could you tell me what you thought of the chapter? I'd like to know a little more than the fact that you can't wait for the next update! If that's even the case to begin with!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

"Oh, shut the fuck up already, Shin! Damn!"

Shinji cracked his infamous smirk, but thankfully, went silent. However fortunate the blond's quiet moment was, it didn't last long. After a few seconds had gone by with Grimmjow glaring through the windshield of the car they were driving to command headquarters, Shinji cleared his throat.

"Look, Grimm, all I'm sayin' is, ya might wanna think about taking care of that in the shower 'er somethin'. It's bad when yer desperate enough ta hump yer fuckin' bed, ya know?"

"Shin," Grimmjow growled. He didn't let his eyes leave the road, but his tone of voice was warning enough. "I will kick your ass all over this desert road. Don't tempt me."

"Hey, man! _Yer_ the one who was makin' love ta his mattress an' shit. If ya ask me-"

"Yeah, well, I ain't fuckin' ask you, did I? Now, leave it the fuck alone before I put my foot so far up yer ass, you'll be sneezin' sneaker."

Shinji guffawed from the passenger seat as he clutched the "oh shit" bar overhead as well as his stomach. Grimmjow shook his head. Sometimes his best friend worked his last fucking nerve. There was no reason for the jerk to keep bringing up the previous night, especially since Grimmjow persistently asked him _not_ to. Once he'd grown tired of being polite, though, he'd snapped at the man and demanded that he not talk about it. Like _ever_ again. Not because the situation itself bothered or even embarrassed him, but because every time Shinji talked about it, it made Grimmjow involuntarily relive his frighteningly real dream. He wanted to see Ichigo so badly, he could damned near taste him. He could feel the younger man's skin beneath his fingertips if he closed his eyes long enough, and if he went silent for too long, he could see Ichigo's fiery brown gaze, see his full lips and unearthly bright orange hair. Could hear his husky voice that if used the right way made Grimmjow harder than a coffin nail. He wanted to fuck his boyfriend...and he wanted to do it like last month.

"Alright, Grimm, I won't talk about it anymore. But ya gotta admit, it was funny as hell."

"No, I'm sorry."

"Fuck you, dude. That shit was hilarious. I'm on my way to sleep, and I see you working the hell outta yer bed like it was hot and had a pulse."

"Yer jus' _itchin'_ ta see what my fist tastes like, ain't ya?"

"Yeah, right. Don't go thinkin' I'll be an easy win. That ain't happenin'."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and ignored the jibe. He just wanted to get this day over with and scratched off his calendar. He had so much that he wanted to do, felt like he _had_ to do, and this whole mission/job was in the way. Not to mention, he had a lot of pent up frustration that was screaming for some type of outlet. He wanted to get laid, he wanted to smoke, he wanted to play his fucking guitar, but he couldn't do any of it, stuck in no man's land, Colombia. They approached the large metal gate housing the command headquarters before Grimmjow pulled to a stop and shut off the car engine. He rotated his shoulders and glared over at his friend.

"Don't piss me off today, Shin. I ain't in the mood."

Shinji scowled at him as he climbed from the vehicle. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya know that's jus' you takin' yer sexual frustration out on me, right?"

_Ouch. Talk about hitting the nail on the head_.

"Just leave the Ichigo topic alone, alright?"

With that, Grimmjow hopped out of the car and strode over to the huge iron gate. As soon as he stood before the small peek panel, it slid back with a rusty rush of air. He gave the daily password and was granted entrance, a smug grin trying to creep across his face as he realized that the man answering the door, so to speak, was none other than Luis. The irony didn't slip by Grimmjow at all. Luis glared at him, the man's dark eyes promising that the very moment Grimmjow let his guard down, the man would move in for the kill. It just amused the hell out of Grimmjow. Everyday was a new adventure for the two of them, mainly with Grimmjow entertaining himself by Luis's apparent fury and envy. Shinji was two seconds away from kicking the guy's ass on a regular basis, but it wasn't necessary in Grimmjow's opinion. He liked seeing the man so surly and sour since it seemed almost impossible for Luis to grasp the fact that Grimmjow hadn't placed himself in this position, miles away from his own home.

"Good _day_, Señor," Luis gritted through tightly clenched teeth.

Grimmjow ignored the greeting, but Shinji turned to the dark-haired man with a snide smirk. "How much did it take to get _that_ through yer asshole..._Se__ñ__or_?"

Grimmjow had to fight the laughter bubbling in his chest simply because it wasn't professional, and that was his whole reason for being there in the first place. He grabbed Shinji by the arm and pulled the blond away from the sneering Luis. Today wasn't the day for the fur to fly _or_ for the shit to hit the fan. They still had a month to go before Grimmjow was ready to show Luis why he wasn't one to be trifled with. That in mind, he led his best friend into the building of headquarters and waited until they were good and down the stairs to turn to him with a highly amused grin.

"Yer a piece a'shit, ya know that?" he rumbled.

Shinji rocked back on his heels and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. "Nah, he's just a whining bitch, so it makes me look like the bad guy."

Grimmjow shook his head as he chuckled and resumed the descent into the bowels of the building. Count on Shinji to make a shitty situation a little less miserable. Once they reached the room where the rest of the men were gathered, Grimmjow shut the door and moved to the front near the whiteboard on the wall. Javier's men had come to understand that Grimmjow didn't need to raise his voice to command attention in a room. All he had to do was stand where he was visible to everyone, hands clasped behind his back and expression deadly serious. They learned to shut the fuck up and listen after the first day, when one of their comrades had thought it a good idea to question his authority. A couple broken ribs and a broken nose later gave all of the men a change of heart.

Silence was golden.

Every eye was riveted to him, every soldier standing at attention and awaiting his next orders. If he was a power-hungry individual, the control would have made him arrogant and sloppy, but he was used to not only _giving_ orders, but _taking_ them as well. He took in the room with a large amount of pride. Javier's men had come a long way, and he could take credit for that without his head swelling to epic proportions.

"I won't be with you guys for much longer, but I will say this: I am proud of how far you've all come as a unit. If I didn't think you had the potential, I would've turned away from this position the moment I stepped foot into this room for the first time. However, that ain't to say I'm gonna lighten up on you, either. You're soldiers, and you will continue to behave as soldiers. Is that understood?"

The entire room chorused, "Sì!"

Grimmjow nodded and headed for the door. "Follow me."

XOXOXO

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Why's it matter, Ururu? I've _gotta_ do this. If I don't, I won't be able to be at peace with myself, _knowing_ that Di's killer is out there somewhere, living life like everything is OK. It's _not_ OK. He fucked up my life, he fucked up Di's life...I just-"

"You're gonna get yourself killed! Do you think that's what Di Roy would want, Jinta?"

Ururu was his one female friend. He'd known her since he was a toddler, and that was the only reason he allowed her to deliver such a low blow. Not to mention, she was normally more reserved and quiet about his personal life. He supposed this was just one of those things that she wasn't willing to let slide.

"Damn, Ururu. That was fucked up, and you know it," he muttered as he hung his head and swung his legs from the edge of the old river dock they were seated on. "Why ya gotta say somethin' like that?"

"It's the truth," she said a little less aggressively. "I don't want you to get hurt, either, but that's exactly what's going to happen if you go through with what you've got in mind."

"What the hell do you want me to do?!" he snapped.

He was at his wits' end. He knew what Ururu _wanted_ him to do, but he couldn't go through with that plan. Di's killer needed to suffer like _they_ suffered. He needed to feel that all-consuming fear before being overcome with helplessness and ultimately a pain so gripping, it felt like it could cripple him him. Di's killer deserved nothing less. He hadn't earned the privilege to walk the streets as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn't torn out a piece of Jinta's soul. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. Di's killer had a whopping serving of street justice coming his way, even if Jinta had to take matters into his own hands, which was exactly what he planned to do.

"Go to the police, Jinta! They can handle this better than you can!"

"Fuck that!" he spat, the thought alone disgusting him. Jail was _way_ too good for that prick. "What the fuck makes you think I'm gonna let that guy get three hots and a cot everyday? Do you understand what he _did_, Ururu? _Can_ you?"

The dark-haired girl lowered her head and focused on the waves gently lapping against the wooden posts of the dock. She swung her legs back and forth, her mind clearly busy with what she wanted to say. Jinta rolled right over it.

"I can't let that motherfucker get away with this. He...he..."

He paused and squeezed his eyes shut as he gripped the bridge of his nose. This was getting him nowhere fast. All he kept thinking about was Di falling to the ground, blood all over his white hoodie and fear in his eyes. He kept seeing the tears, kept hearing the raspy breathing as Di's life spilled from his body. But most of all – and what was probably the most fucked up part about the situation – he kept seeing that evil asshole's smug grin. He couldn't get that image out of his head to save his life, no matter how badly he wanted to or how hard he tried. No. There was no way in the fucking world he would lie down and let Di's killer get away with what had been done.

"Jinta," Ururu started, voice soft and unsure. "I can't even say I understand what you're going through...but...I know that what you want to do is wrong. You could get yourself killed. And I _know_ that's not what Di would-"

"STOP FUCKIN' SAYIN' THAT SHIT!" His breathing was ragged, and the tears he'd been fighting were falling freely. "You don't get it! You just don't fuckin' get it! There is _nothing_ in this world that will bring him back, _nothing_ that will change the fact that he's fuckin' gone, Ururu! Let me explain somethin' to you! Di was my best friend for _years_! And after _that_, he was the only person I could say that I really...that I really... You know what? Fuck this. I don't have to explain myself to you. I appreciate the concern and all, but this ain't what I wanna hear right now."

Jinta climbed to his feet and stalked off, angrily swiping at the tears on his cheeks. Ururu was his friend and everything, but she couldn't _possibly_ understand what he was going through. She'd never had someone she loved with every breath in her body taken away from her in the blink of an eye _before_ her very eyes. There was no advice that she could give that would change his mind. None.

He didn't bother looking back as he approached his car. She'd asked him to meet her at the dock after noticing that before lunch that day, he'd approached whom everyone in school referred to as a shady character. He was the go-to guy; he had a little bit of everything that anyone could possibly need.

And what he'd needed was a gun.

XOXOXO

"Tats, this don't feel right, man."

Tatsuki nodded as they swung into the less populated area of the harbor. It was littered with abandoned factories and warehouses, and most of the lighting had been knocked out of their lamp posts. She would admit that she didn't like the sensation of dread descending in her gut, but logic kept her driving towards the dark sedan parked next to a warehouse on the waterfront. Her hands had gone clammy and she would have been bouncing her knees up and down had she not been driving. Yet, a small, niggling thought at the back of her mind told her that they weren't making their way to their deaths.

They just couldn't be. It didn't make any sense.

As she parked the truck and shut off the engine, one of the tall, thin figures leaning against the waiting sedan straightened itself out and sauntered towards them. Tatsuki took a deep breath and heard Nel doing the same beside her. They had no idea what they were getting into, and yes, it was scary as fuck. She climbed out of the vehicle, confident in the knowledge that she had a .45 tucked into the waistband of her sweats, and a .380 tucked into her right sock. She listened for the girls in the other truck, and once she heard their footsteps, she paused before the silver-haired woman looking down at her.

"Hey, ladies. How are we tonight?"

Nel cut in before Tatsuki could respond. "Hey, listen. If you're plannin' ta-"

"Nel," Tatsuki growled with a carefully aimed glare in the green-haired woman's direction. "What the fuck, dude?"

"I just wanna know! I like to _see_ the hole I might be fallin' into, thank you very much."

Before anything else could be said, Genevieve's head reared back as she howled with laughter. She went on for a good while too, wiping her eyes free of tears as they slanted with glee.

"Oh, my God, that's fuckin' _rich_!" She turned to her brother, who was still leaning against the dark sedan, smoking a cigarette. "Hey, Gin! Ya hear that? They think we're gonna off 'em!"

Gin gave that creepy ass closed-mouth grin of his that made his eyes impossible to see, aside from the dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks. Other than that, though, the man didn't say a word.

Nel huffed and put her hands on her hips. "I just don't see the joke. Forgive me for not laughin'."

"Jeez-_us_, Sea Green! We ain't call ya here fer _that_. Trust me, if we wanted ya gone..." Genevieve's face went slack with frankness. "You'd be gone."

"Well, damned if that ain't ominous as fuck," Yoruichi said as she sidled into view. "So, if we're not here to get killed, what'd you call us for?"

"Mm," Halibel hummed as she moved next to Nel, which was probably the only thing keeping the green-haired woman quiet for the time being.

Genevieve rocked back on her heels and stuck her hands into the pockets of her long, black raincoat. Her silver hair fluttered on an invisible breeze, which just gave the moment a more dramatic effect.

"We don't really like discussin' business over the phone, ya know? 'Sides, we were doin' you ladies a favor tonight."

"Say what?" Nel snapped.

Tatsuki wanted to step on her foot to shut her the fuck up, but Halibel just slid a little closer to her, which did the job fantastically. Thankfully, Genevieve didn't take offense.

"Let's jus' say that The Man's got eyes everywhere. That guy you were watchin'? Well, he was in the middle of making a U-turn to see what you ladies were up to, and we didn't want him gettin' the drop on ya. We like workin' with you guys, so we'd like ta keep ya 'round fer a little longer."

Shock rippled through Tatsuki like a boulder landing in a pond. What was that supposed to mean?

"Are you...wait, are you telling us-"

"Uh-huh," Genevieve interrupted with a smile. "That guy's far from a fool. He spotted those hideous trucks a mile away."

"Now, wait a minute!" Nel interjected hotly..._again_.

"Nel, just _shut up_!" Tatsuki shouted, irritated. She was still flustered over the fact that they'd been spotted. And worse, that they'd almost been canceled. "How did...alright. Let me back up for a second. If you guys already had eyes out there, why send us?"

"Yeah, that's a good fuckin' question," Yoruichi growled, golden eyes hard and narrowed.

It didn't faze the silver-haired Amazon one bit. She continued grinning as though she were delivering a weather report.

"Well, we needed your assistance in drawin' 'im out."

Just as the words left her mouth, another dark sedan was pulling into the area where they were congregated. Tatsuki's eyes went wide as she whirled and stared. That was the same fucking car they'd just seen... She turned back to Genevieve, but the woman was still fucking smiling as though this were an everyday occurrence. Tatsuki went to glance in Gin's direction, but Genevieve gave a minute shake of her head, smile never faltering.

"Ah-ah-ah. Don't do that, girly."

Tatsuki's mind told her to freeze, but her instincts kicked in and, instead, allowed her to swivel in the direction of the man climbing from the newly arrived sedan. As she peered at her friends from the corners of her eyes, she noticed that they too were on edge. It was written all over their tensed shoulders and the way their faces had gone unmistakably poker-like. She wanted to reach for the gun behind her back, but it was too late for that. The man was already heading towards them.

It felt like a Mexican standoff. No one moved, no one breathed, no one even blinked. All eyes were riveted to the petite, dark-haired man confidently moving towards them like a wraith in the shadows. He came to stop a few feet away from the hood of Tatsuki's truck, his hands hanging loosely at his sides as his big, emerald-green eyes swept the party standing before him.

"Why were you watching me?" he asked in such a low monotone that the question more resembled a statement.

No one said anything, but the tension in the air was thicker than a porterhouse steak. Fortunately, Genevieve stepped forward, easygoing smile still in place.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I can't say that I know what yer talkin' about."

"I have no tolerance for lies."

This was a bad situation at best, dire at worst. What the hell were they supposed to do from here? Why had things gone so horribly wrong? Tatsuki only refrained from fidgeting in place because she was damned near paralyzed with fear. This man was no one they wanted to fuck with. Not even a little bit. But here they were, caught in the man's unrelenting gaze. Tatsuki had no doubt in her mind that the man was carrying too.

"Ah, now, don't be thatta way," Genevieve chuckled. How the fuck could she be so damned calm at a time like this? So goddamned carefree? "Why don't ya tell me what's goin' on?"

Before anyone could say another word, the man had a nine millimeter pointed in Genevieve's direction, its aim solely for her heart. That wiped the smile off her face.

"As I stated previously-" the man started.

"Well, well. Didn' yer mama ever tell ya it ain't nice ta point guns at ladies?" a familiar light tenor floated over the loud silence that had fallen. "Tsk, tsk. I thought by the way ya talked, ya mighta had better manners than this."

The man still had his gun pointed at Genevieve, but he wasn't a dummy. Gin had a slender arm wrapped securely around the guy's neck and a big ass Desert Eagle pressed to the guy's temple. Tatsuki still couldn't breathe, but her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would explode, aaaaaany second now.

"You are one _feisty_, little motherfucker, ya know that?" Genevieve said, smile long gone and ice blue eyes slitted apart.

Tatsuki was thinking that maybe she didn't like guns being pointed at her too much.

"Now, now, 'Vieve. We got a job ta do. Matter fact, there's his ride," Gin said.

It was astonishing, really. Gin had never turned his head to look for the car that was now approaching them, but somehow, he'd known. _She_ hadn't even noticed it, and she was facing the damned thing. It turned out to be a black town car, and it rolled to a stop between the girls' trucks. She watched breathless as the driver jumped from the front seat of the vehicle and jogged around to the back passenger door, where he opened it and stood aside, one hand behind his back. Another suspenseful moment passed before two, hulking men climbed out of the vehicle, guns in hand. They stood on either side of the open door, waiting until a man Tatsuki had only ever heard about, gracefully unfolded himself from the car. The man fixed the lapels of his tan, crisply tailored suit, then, adjusted the brown tie around his neck before moving in their direction, flanked by the huge bodyguards.

"Ya might wanna put that down 'fore ya get any bright ideas. Boss don't wantcha dead jus' yet, an' that's jus' what you'll be if ya make any funny moves," Gin said quietly into the shorter man's ear.

The man's face never changed as he lowered the gun, nice and slow, before letting it hit the ground. Gin kicked it towards the bodyguards, and one of them stooped to retrieve it. Javier Yasutora strolled to a stop in front of Gin and his hostage before cracking a friendly grin.

"How are you this evening, Ulquiorra?"

Of course, the guy didn't say anything. Hell, Tatsuki didn't even think the man was breathing. His glare, however, was deadly as cyanide. Yet, it didn't bother Javier one bit; he just continued addressing the man with heavily accented English.

"We'll be taking a ride, yes? I have a few things I need to discuss with you."

Still, the shorter man said nothing. His green eyes merely glinted with what he was really feeling, which had to be a shitload of malice. Tatsuki didn't think it could be anything else.

Javier snapped the fingers of his right hand, and the two bodyguards lowered their weapons as Gin handed the man over. He didn't lower his gun, though, which was probably a good thing. The look on the guy's face spoke volumes of what he wanted to do to the lot of them.

"Aizen will want answers," he finally deadpanned.

Javier grinned some more as he nodded. "And you will deliver them."

As soon as the words left his mouth, one of the bodyguards planted a beefy-looking elbow into the smaller man's stomach, making him pitch forward, doubled over in pain. Javier bent to eye level with him, charming grin never fading.

"I can't promise what state you'll be in, however."

That said, Javier straightened and turned to Tatsuki and the rest of the girls.

"Thank you, mis amigas. Expect payment in your accounts by the morning. Gin, Genevieve, come with me, please."

Tatsuki didn't know what to say as she watched Gin meander over to the sedan that had originally been on the scene. Genevieve's wide smirk was back as she turned to them.

"You ladies have a good night, alright? And thanks again!"

After that, she followed her brother to the car and folded herself inside. All vehicles started up and rolled away, leaving Tatsuki and the rest of the girls wondering what the fuck had just happened.

XOXOXO

He hated this office with such a passion, it was almost scary. But when he thought about it, he realized it was more annoying than anything. Being summoned by their leader was equivalent to standing before a judge during a trial that was guaranteed to result in a guilty verdict. The looks the brunet gave Tousen while interrogating him were nothing short of terrifying and unpredictable.

"Have there been anymore incidents?"

Tousen shook his head and clasped his hands together behind his back to keep from fidgeting. Thankfully, the string of sudden robberies had died down. If they hadn't, Tousen was positive that this meeting would have been a lot different.

"That's good. What about the ones who were in charge of the operations?"

"You mean the guys that ran the trap houses?"

"If you prefer to speak in layman's terms, then yes. That's what I mean. What happened to them? Were they properly disciplined?"

"Yes, Sir."

Aizen's idea of discipline started with "D" and ended with "EATH." There was never any middle ground for their leader, but Tousen supposed the man had his reasons. However, he _could_ say that he was lucky. Or maybe Aizen just had other plans for him. The thought made his blood run cold and his hands go clammy. He barely suppressed a shudder as he focused on the intimidating man seated behind a desk before him.

"I want it to stay that way, Tousen. Anymore slip-ups, and I won't be willing to be so patient with you any longer."

Tousen quietly exhaled a breath and closed his eyes. The words hit him like a bullet to the gut. He nodded and opened his eyes to meet his leader's intense gaze.

"I got it."

He left the office without another word passing between them. Aizen's words had come in loud and clear, and frankly, it left Tousen a bit rankled. He wanted to cause some major damage. He had a feeling all of those robberies stemmed from what he'd done to that bastard G and his little shadow. But it was OK. He had a plan that would settle the score once and for all. As he made it to the front of the building, he pulled out his cell phone and called his informant. He wanted to get this show on the road.

XOXOXO

Ichigo lay on his back, staring at the tiled ceiling, head spinning and body tingling. He was high on a Molly, apparently, but it still didn't keep a wave of disgust from crashing over him. Sure, he'd thought he, Shuuhei and Renji were friends, but after a stunt like this, he didn't know what to believe anymore. Renji was still staring at him in amusement, and Ichigo still had his hand wrapped around the red head's hefty equipment. He wanted to let go, but his body had a mind of its own at the moment. It was almost embarrassing.

He swallowed a few times, his throat parched beyond belief. What should he do? He wanted to tell the two to stop and that he wasn't ready for what was going on. He wanted to get up and leave the room. There were plenty more things that he wanted, but he just couldn't get the words to leave his mouth. So, he lay still and continued to stare at the ceiling. His body was hot, damned near feverish, and his heart was racing. Everything was super sensitive, so he twitched when a pair of rough hands ran up his exposed thighs. He managed to lower his eyes and found Shuuhei grinning up at him, dark gaze twinkling with whatever he was influenced by at the time.

"I take it that felt good, huh?" the man asked.

Ichigo frowned and turned his stare back to the ceiling. However, before he could drift away inside of his own mind, Renji's hands were on his sides, the red head's lips blazing a trail down his neck.

"You OK, Ichigo?"

_Oh, now he asks?_

"No, not really," he slurred, glad that he could speak what he was actually thinking for a change. "I don't like this."

Renji pulled back and gave him a strange look. Ichigo thought he understood why the taller man was eyeing him that way, but when Renji spoke again, his thoughts were dashed.

"Why ya look like that?"

Ichigo drifted anyway. The music from outside of the room seemed to seep between the cracks of the door, the lyrics making him overly emotional. Everything was happening too quickly. He felt like shit because Grimmjow had just died, and here he was, messing around with two other guys. It was too much like a betrayal in his eyes. And then the song that was playing just added to his misery.

_Why do you go where I can't follow?  
>I hate to watch you fall apart<br>Oh, why must you bear this burden alone?  
>Oh, you know it breaks my heart...<br>Oh, you know it breaks my heart... _

Butch Clancy had turned Amy Kuney's song, "Where I Can't Follow" into a dubstep track, and the words were killing him none too softly. He wanted to roll over and die. It seemed like every emotion possible was coursing its way through him, more powerful than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He _missed_ Grimmjow. He wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him, wanted to _be_ with him. But he couldn't.

"Hey, c'mon, don't do that," Renji said gently.

Ichigo turned to him in confusion. What was he talking about? His question was immediately answered when Renji's hand came up to his face, and his thumb swiped across Ichigo's cheek. The moisture on the digit surprised Ichigo. What the hell was going on with his body? He hated being so out of control of his emotions and actions.

Shuuhei climbed onto the bed beside Ichigo, a slight frown marring his brow. "We're not gonna _force_ you, Ichigo. We just thought you needed to loosen up and have a good time, ya know?"

Renji nodded his agreement, and Ichigo covered his face with his hands, trying to get himself together. Maybe they weren't so bad, after all. He took a few deep breaths and nodded in return.

"Thanks. I just...I don't think I'm ready for this right now."

"That's cool," Shuuhei stated. "You're our boy, ya know? We just wanted you to have fun."

Ichigo nodded again and slowly sat up. The room spun out of control, so he flopped back and shut his eyes.

"Holy shit, I think I'm gonna puke."

"Dude..." Renji uttered as he quickly backed away, lower half still exposed.

Ichigo was grateful. At least the movement gave him a chance to let go of the red head's ridiculous length. He grinned through the Olympics taking place in his stomach. He was almost certain that Molly didn't agree with him at all.

"I might be alright."

"I hope so," Renji grunted. "Ya need help gettin' ta the bathroom?"

"Nah, it's goin' away. Thanks, though."

They went silent for a while, Ichigo's mind running through what could have occurred had that song not been playing. Sure, he was high as a kite, and sure, he didn't have total control over his body, but the emotional aspect of the situation had seemed to bring everything into perspective. Now, he just wanted to go home.

"Can someone take me home? I just wanna sleep this off."

Shuuhei was the first on his feet. He leaned over Ichigo and peered down into his eyes with his signature grin. "I gotcha. Think you can get up?"

"Maybe. ...But I wouldn't bet on it yet."

Renji chuckled beside him, vibrating the bed with his deep voice. Ichigo was helpless to resist joining the red head in laughter. It all just felt so surreal. Like a dream. After he quieted down, a serious thought occurred to him.

"If you dipshits _ever_ put anything else in my drink aside from alcohol again, I will personally fuck you up."

The two cracked up at that. Ichigo grinned, glad that the scene hadn't gotten ugly. He was just looking forward to getting off this bed and crashing into his. He'd probably sleep for a week, but that was fine. Besides, he could really use the rest.

After a half hour dragged by, Ichigo finally felt like he was able to climb to his feet (with Shuuhei's assistance, of course) and shuffle over to the door of the room. The walk to Shuuhei's car was a little blurry, but Ichigo remembered passing his car keys to Renji so the man could follow them. Ichigo really didn't want to have a reason to return to the warehouse any time soon, even though the trio had remained cordial.

The last thing he recalled was falling onto his bed and knocking out instantly.

**XxxxxxX**

"Get the hell away from my bed!"

Shiro grinned down at him as he held Ichigo's blanket in his hands. Ichigo had been comfortable in bed with no plans of getting up any time soon, until his door had been thrown open with enough force to bang against the wall. His brother had strolled in, teeth showing in his idiotic smirk before he'd snatched away Ichigo's blanket, declaring it was time for him to knock the mold off his ass.

"Nah, King. Ya been in bed all day. When ya gonna get up?"

"I was thinking some time tomorrow or the day after, if you don't mind," Ichigo grunted as he rolled onto his side.

He had a headache painful enough to bring about world peace, and his mouth was so dry, his tongue kept sticking to its roof. He was still exhausted, though, which was the only reason he hadn't climbed out of bed earlier when his stomach was growling like a lawn mower. He didn't want to move. He just wanted to sleep. He tucked his head beneath his pillow, but Shiro snatched that away too.

"What?! Like I'll let that happen! Get yer ass up, King!"

"Shiro! Man, damn! You're such a pain in the ass!"

"Haha! I know, right? C'mon, I made dinner."

Dinner sounded really good at the moment, actually, but sleep sounded a little better. Ichigo weighed his options. He could lie in bed some more and run the risk of his twin pestering him out of his sanity, or he could actually get up and fill his belly. Ichigo sighed and carefully sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Shiro would never let him sleep after going as far as waking him up and holding his blanket and pillow hostage.

"Fuck," he grunted as he stood.

He stretched his arms over his head, his spine realigning itself as he gave a loud yawn. He didn't have class until the next morning and had been looking forward to spending his day off lazing around. Oh, well. He shuffled into the kitchen, his gut grumbling appreciatively at the delicious smell wafting throughout the apartment. He found Shiro standing at the stove, stirring a wooden spoon around a pot of pasta. Ichigo went and stood behind him, glancing over a pale shoulder.

"What smells so good?"

"Mom's pasta and vodka sauce recipe. I made that chicken she used to make too."

"Nice!"

The chicken Shiro was talking about had been their mom's famous dish. She used to cut up red and yellow peppers, fresh garlic cloves, cilantro, and a red onion, mix it all together in a dish with lemon juice and olive oil, then spread it over boneless chicken breasts. After that, she'd top it off by adding a layer of freshly grated Parmesan cheese. She would cover the pan with foil before sitting it in the oven for around forty-five minutes, and what came out was Heaven on Earth. Ichigo nodded as he eyed the covered pan on the stove. He was almost glad Shiro had gotten him out of bed. He went to take a seat at the table, but Shiro scowled over his shoulder at him.

"Go take a shower, King! Ya smell like an after party."

Ichigo grinned and rolled his eyes as he trudged out of the kitchen. "Fuck you, dude."

A shower actually sounded good.

**XxxxxxX**

Fifteen minutes later saw him at the table, devouring the meal Shiro had prepared. It was absolutely delicious. He hadn't been able to say more than "thanks for the food" since his plate had been set before him. He knew Shiro was giving him that wide, amused smirk, but Ichigo didn't even care. There was a celebration going on in his stomach that had him a little preoccupied. Finally, once his plate was clean, he sat back and rubbed his belly.

"Good?" Shiro asked as he pushed his own empty plate aside.

"Fuck yes. You know it's good. When'd you learn how to cook?"

His albino twin actually blushed and averted his eyes. "None a'yer biz, King. Anyway...what happened last night? Ya never told me how the party was; ya jus' came in an' passed out in bed."

Ichigo sighed. He should've known Shiro had an ulterior motive.

"Nothing special, really. Just got a little too drunk."

"That so?"

"Mmhmm."

"King, ya think I'm dumb?"

"God, Shiro. Can't ya just leave it alone? I made it home, right?"

His brother went quiet, but Ichigo knew it was only a matter of time before he had something else to say. While Ichigo waited, he went to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of water. He didn't think his gut could handle any kind of juice or soda at the moment. As soon as the glass was lifted to his lips, Shiro swiveled in his seat to face him.

"I don' like that yer keepin' shit from me, King. What if somethin' happens because of whatever went down at that party? How'm I 'sposed ta know what ta do?"

Ichigo wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't. Shiro was only concerned for him. Ichigo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. What would Shiro say once Ichigo told him the truth? He'd probably be ready to kill both Shuuhei and Renji.

"They kinda gave me a Molly," he mumbled.

Shiro was instantly on his feet. "What?!"

"Calm down. It wasn't that bad."

"Are you stupid or somethin'? What else did they do? An' you better not fuckin' lie ta me, King! I swear ta God!"

"Jesus Christ, Shiro! What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not a kid, you know!"

"What's wrong with _me_?! What's wrong with _you_?! I told ya not ta fuckin' go ta that stupid ass party!" Shiro stalked over and got right up in Ichigo's personal space. "What else did they do?" he growled.

Ichigo scowled at his brother. Shiro was definitely overreacting.

"Shiro, it really doesn't ma-"

"KING! IT DOES FUCKIN' MATTER! YOU'RE MY GODDAMNED BROTHER!"

Ichigo snapped his mouth shut and stared at his twin. He could see an unnatural fear in Shiro's eyes, and it made Ichigo feel guilty for being irritated. He had to remember that Shiro had been abandoned by Shinji not too long ago, and he was more than likely afraid to lose someone else close to him.

"If I tell you what they did, you're gonna wanna fight them, and it's really not that serious. I already chewed them out for what they did."

Shiro pressed his lips together, the look in his strange eyes broadcasting loud and clear.

"Fine. They put a Molly in my drink, and Shuuhei gave me head while I was high. Happy now?"

The expression on his brother's face was scary. Ichigo closed the gap between them and put his arms around Shiro to keep him in place.

"Please don't make a big deal about this. I know what they did was fucked up, but I really don't plan to hang out with them anymore. I'm fine. Nothing other than what I told you happened. Just let this go," he murmured.

Shiro's shoulders trembled as he took a deep breath. "How can you say somethin' like that? They were tryna-"

"I don't think they were trying to go that far. I mean, they probably would have if I wanted to, but when I told them no, they stopped."

"But they drugged you!"

Ichigo didn't know what to say to make the situation seem less severe than it was. He knew it was bad, and trying to make light of it was just as bad, but what could he do? It had already happened, and there was nothing he could do about it now. He couldn't see himself calling the cops, either. He sighed.

"It's over. I'm not kicking it with them anymore, so don't worry about it. Alright?"

Shiro nodded against his shoulder, his voice muffled when he spoke. "Fine. Only if ya promise not ta see those assholes again."

"Deal."

Shiro put his arms around Ichigo and hugged him. This was a rare moment for the two. Sure, they loved one another unconditionally, but they were never affectionate and serious about it. They played around a lot, which had started a lot of rumors, but that was as far as it went. Ichigo held onto his brother and closed his eyes. He felt bad for him. Shinji had royally fucked Shiro over by leaving him without even telling him where he was going. It wasn't the same as Ichigo's situation, where his lover had died. Shinji had made a choice, and that choice hadn't included Shiro.

Shiro was the first to pull out of the hug. "I need a drink," he grumbled before walking away.

Ichigo chuckled as he followed behind him. He could go for one himself. At least this time, he wouldn't have to worry about it being laced.

**XxxxxxX**

**Two Weeks Later**

Ichigo left the University building with a scowl. He had enough homework to last him the rest of the week, and he was so not looking forward to it. He sucked his teeth as he rooted through his jeans pocket for his car keys. He was exhausted. He really didn't want to attribute the fatigue to the abnormal amount of stress he was under, _or_ the depression that had hit him hard again after the night he'd partied with Shuuhei and Renji, but there was no getting around it. He was missing Grimmjow now more than ever. There was so much he wanted to tell the blue-haired man, so much he wanted to share with him. He sighed as he went to the parking lot beside the school. It was incredibly hard getting used to the man not being around, especially since Ichigo had already gotten comfortable with the idea of being with him for a long time, if not the rest of his life.

Ichigo was about twenty feet from his car, when skidding tires squealed through the lot. His head snapped towards the sound, eyes going wide as a dark green car pulled to a stop right beside him. He didn't even have time to yell before a familiar, brown-skinned man hopped from the vehicle and approached him with a drawn gun. Ichigo's heart started racing as his stomach dropped onto the pavement.

_What the fuck?_

The man grinned at him, teeth nearly blinding him with their brightness. Ichigo was paralyzed with shock and fear as he watched a man he hadn't seen since Grimmjow's death, slowly stalking towards him.

"What's up, kid? 'Member me?"

Did he... There was no way in the world Ichigo would be able to forget this man's face.

The hand in his pocket finally wrapped around his keys as he tried to edge his way closer to his car without the other man noticing. His heart felt like it was literally in his throat as he kept his eyes glued to the threat in front of him. He couldn't even call anyone. Couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't do anything except watch the inevitable occur.

"Ah-ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Don't wanna end up like yer boyfriend, right?"

Ichigo froze. The words pissed him off, but even though he was furious, there was nothing he could do. The man had a gun pointed at him, and Ichigo had already been shot once. He wasn't really trying to relive that moment, thanks.

"Better. Why dontcha come with me? Go for a ride, huh?"

Ichigo licked his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I-I don't...I don't think that's a good idea."

The man tilted his head, his grin widening. "Aww, don't be like that. It'll be fun, trust me."

Yeah fucking right. Like hell he'd do that.

"No...I just...I just wanna go home. Please," he whispered.

_God, don't choke up now. Don't let fear consume you. Think. Think_. _THINK_.

But he couldn't. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he began to panic. Was this asshole going to shoot him? Was he going to die? He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready. There was so much that he still wanted to do.

_Fuck_.

"P-please don't shoot me," he stuttered.

The man chuckled and shook his head, his long, dark hair swaying back and forth across his shoulders. His eyes were gleaming with malice as they remained steady on Ichigo's face.

"I won't. Long as you cooperate."

Ichigo glanced around at the surrounding cars. It was still a bit early, so there were no other students in the lot. The _one_ day his professor had been kind enough to let them go a little ahead of time, this shit had to happen. The man waved his gun in a "come here" gesture, but Ichigo still flinched. He would openly admit that he was now terrified of guns.

"Let's go, kid. Don't make me come over there and getcha."

He was trembling, and sweat was forming under his arms, above his top lip and along his brow. What was he supposed to do? If he wanted to live, he would have to listen to this guy. It was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but...fuck it all. If it meant staying alive for a little longer, he would do it.

He slowly started creeping over to the man, footsteps heavy and heart drumming against his ribs. He was a good two feet away, when the man's arm lurched forward, snatching Ichigo's wrist. He jumped and almost cried out, but refused to show anymore weakness than he already had. The man used his free hand to frisk Ichigo, pulling Ichigo's cell from his pocket, as well as his car keys. The man shoved the items into his own pockets before grabbing Ichigo by the arm again and leading him over to the green car.

This was it. He was probably heading to his death, and he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to anyone. He wanted to break down and cry, but he was a man. If he had to go, he would go with his dignity in tact. When he made it to the passenger side of the man's car, the man stopped him and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

"Let's put these on ya for now. Don't wantcha makin' a fuss."

Ichigo wanted to fight, but he wouldn't risk being shot. He just wouldn't. If there was even a miniscule chance that he would make it out of this with his life, he would do whatever it took. He wanted to see his family again. He wanted to see Karin's baby when it was born. He wanted to be there for his brother.

During Ichigo's mental breakdown, the man snapped the cuffs around Ichigo's wrists, then opened the passenger door. He guided Ichigo inside the car and ran around to the driver's side before peeling out of the lot with another shriek of rubber. Ichigo watched the scenery fly by, wondering what Shiro would do when he noticed Ichigo's prolonged absence. The cops would probably be involved, and then their old man... Ichigo grimaced. He really hated being a burden to his father. That was the reason he'd gone back to school in the first place. He wanted to prove to the older man that he _wasn't_ a failure, that he could _do_ something with his life.

Now, look at him.

Caught up in yet more bullshit.

**Hey guys! There's something I need to discuss with ya. Earlier today, someone flamed the hell out of several of my stories: God Amongst Men, Thriller, Untrained Heart, Mix Up, Inferno, Stupid Girl, The Fairy Prince, Lazy Bastard, and Beginner's Luck. Lmao, I don't give a fuck about that part. The part that bothers me is that they used other people's pen names. That's not only rude as fuck, but it's just downright wrong. I'm adding this author's note to let the people whose names were used know that they were being impersonated in a wrongful manner. **

**MMagnet, Odiemee, Cheeva, PhoenixDiamond, Puppikooky, Misc. Ink, The Petulant Prodigy, and Selphiebunny. I consider these people my friends. Most of them I'm on a first name basis with, and two I'm even writing stories with. I can't believe the gall of whoever the troll was, but I thought it should be known what was going on. I don't know what this person's aim was, but it's not going to keep me from fucking writing or posting on this site. Get a life. If you have a beef with me, come to ME. Stop being a fucking coward. I'm past tired of this bullshit. It's old, and it's fucking lame already. Seriously. **

**From now on, I'm going to automatically moderate the anonymous reviews to be posted so everyone can see the shit I'm talking about. I can't make this shit up if I tried. Pussies. I mean, you sure talk a lot of shit behind an anonymous mask. I won't respect that shit until you sign in and pop your meaningless junk. Fuck outta here with this shit, man. Grow a spine and THEN come for me. I don't know what people's beef is with me, but I'm pretty sick of the anonymous garbage. Stop filling my inbox with this crap, and stop wasting my fucking time. I'm a grown ass woman, dog. Ain't nobody got time fa dat. **

**That being said, I just wanted to let those whose names were being abused know what the deal was.**

**My next update will probably be The Cleaners. Thanks for your patience! And thanks for reading! Have a good one! I know I will! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Jinta paced his bedroom, every now and then casting a glance first at his closed and locked door, and then to his desk. It was about six o'clock in the evening, the apartment too quiet, his dad still downstairs in the store. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth as he stilled and eyed the object lying on his desk. It was dark, heavy and formidable. Truthfully, it scared him. His hands shook as he took a few steps towards the desk. His heart was pounding, fast and hard like the bass of a techno song. He was starting to think that maybe...just maybe he'd made the wrong decision when he'd bought the damned thing.

He sat down hard on the side of his bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. Was he going about this the wrong way? Ururu's words kept ringing in his mind ever since she'd said them. He felt bad for snapping at her, but what the hell had she expected from him? He'd just lost Di Roy: his best friend and the love of his life. There was no bringing him back. And _why_? All because some gangster held a grudge against Di's blue-haired idol? How was that even fair?

_It isn't fair_, he inwardly snarled. _It isn't _fucking_ fair_.

He was so damned angry. It filled him up from within until he felt like he would explode at the slightest provocation. He didn't have many friends, but everyone, especially Ururu and Jinta's father had noticed a distinct change in his behavior. He had always been a loner (with the exception of Di Roy), but he'd been friendly and meticulous about his studies. Now, he was withdrawn. Angry. Sullen and brooding. He wanted nothing to do with anything anymore.

Except Di Roy's killer.

He glanced at the gun again and heaved a deep sigh. He wanted revenge so badly, he could almost taste it. He wanted to see the man who'd ruthlessly taken Di Roy's life, writhing on the ground in bloody misery. He wanted the man to feel pain so acute, it would take his breath away.

Tears stung Jinta's eyes as he stared at the weapon on his desk. His heart started racing again as his thoughts were filled with blood-lust and rage. If he went through with his plans, his father would more than likely disown him. Ururu would never speak to him again. Jinta hung his head and rubbed his eyes. He just wanted Di Roy back.

"Jinta...what is that?"

Jinta's heart stalled in his chest, blood freezing in his veins. He was afraid to turn and face the voice only a few feet away. But he had to. His father didn't even sound like himself. In fact, the chipper blond sounded like he'd seen a ghost.

"Dad...i-it's not what you think."

"How can you possibly say that? Jinta...there is a _gun_ on your desk! Why-how-_where_ did you get that thing from?"

Jinta opened his mouth to respond, but his father stormed over to him and grabbed his arm, lifting him clear off the bed.

"Have you lost your mind?" the older man hissed.

His eyes were bright with anger, lips twitching as though he wanted to say more, but couldn't keep himself calm enough to do so. Jinta winced when his father's grip tightened on his arm.

"D-Dad, you're hurting me!"

"_Hurting_ you? Jinta, I'm so mad, I could strangle you right now! What were you planning to do with this?" Jinta was too stunned to reply. All he could manage was a dumb look, his mouth hanging open. "You answer me!"

"I don't know! I-I just...I don't know."

And just like that, his father wilted. His shoulders drooped, and the grip on Jinta's arm loosened. Steel-gray eyes darted to the floor before shooting towards the tall dresser on the opposite side of the room. Without saying a word, the older man marched over to the dresser, snatched open one of the drawers and dug through its contents. After a slight pause, he pulled free a dark-blue towel and turned back to Jinta.

"Bring it to me."

He'd never heard his father's voice sound so raw. So pained and desperate.

Jinta did as the man asked, holding the gun by the nose. Once it was out of his hand, he rubbed his palm and fingers as if the cold steel had singed them. He watched with wide eyes as his father wrapped the gun in the towel after wiping it down and taking it apart. How did his dad know how to do that?

"Don't ask. I'd hoped it would never come to this, Jinta. I thought you were smarter."

Really, what could he say? His father was absolutely right in more ways than one. Jinta had just allowed his anger and grief to almost make a decision that would cost him his freedom and probably his life. He sighed, afraid to meet his father's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

He thought about Di Roy and how he would never see him again. The pain was crippling, but it was something he was going to have to learn to deal with. Life was unfair that way. A warm, strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him to a firm chest.

"I understand how you feel. More than you know, son. But you can't let your feelings make you irrational. What would I have done if you'd gotten yourself into something that couldn't be fixed? What if you'd died? Then, you would have left me in the same situation you're in right now. That may sound selfish, but I'm entitled. I'm your father, and you're my only child. I do _not_ want to lose you to something so foolish."

Jinta wanted to protest, wanted to tell his father that Di Roy deserved the closure, but he couldn't. Pain made tears sting his eyes as he hid his face against his father's chest. He just wanted Di Roy _back_. He wanted to laugh and see the boy's braces and dimpled smile again.

It just wasn't fair.

His father rubbed his back and said, "It'll be alright, son. I'm here."

XOXOXO

Gin watched his boss lower himself into a metal folding chair and cross his legs, ankle over knee. The older man took his time with snipping the end of a fresh Cuban cigar and carefully lighting it. A couple of puffs later, The Man leaned forward in his chair and tilted his head to the side, his storm-colored eyes calculating as he considered the small, dark-haired man before him.

"I am running out of patience, Ulquiorra. Since you refuse to tell me what I want to hear, I'm going to send you back to your boss with a message. One that he _can't_ ignore. He has been toeing the line between belligerence and outright disrespect. It's time he remembers his place. Not to mention, too many of my friends have expired at his hands. He owes me blood."

Gin's gaze went to Ulquiorra, who was tied to a metal folding chair and refusing to speak. Gin didn't think the petite man quite understood what kind of danger he was facing. ...Or maybe he did and just didn't give a fuck. Either way was sure to bring him to an early demise.

The Man held his cigar out to his right side, and one of his personal bodyguards took it from him before disappearing into the shadows once more. Gin shifted uneasily and looked over at his sister. Genevieve's face was calm, and so was her demeanor, but Gin had known the woman all of his life. He knew the signs of her being uncomfortable or nervous, and one of them was the tiny bead of sweat coasting along her profile. He understood. The Man was unpredictable, and there was no telling whether the meeting with Ulquiorra would turn sour or not. Right now, things were still OK. Even though the message The Man intended to have Ulquiorra take back to his boss was nothing to sneeze at, it still wasn't as extreme as The Man _could_ be.

"Because your boss is such a cold-hearted snake, killing you would be pointless, as would be holding you hostage. However, I _do_ know that he is prideful. _Too_ prideful, in fact," The Man calmly explained as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The look in his eyes gave Gin the willies...and that was really saying something. The Man made a dramatic pause before continuing to speak. "With that being said, I believe a little incentive is required. So...I've come up with this idea: for each time that he does _not_ bring himself before me at my request, I will take something from him. Or someone. I suppose it will depend on my mood that day. But _today_, I'm feeling particularly _bitter_. I think of my dead friends, and I get _extremely_ upset, Ulquiorra, you just have _no_ idea."

Gin swallowed harshly as he watched The Man slowly climb to his feet and move towards their dark-haired captive. After listening to The Man's speech, Gin was certain the next scene was sure to be gruesome. He exchanged wary glances with Genevieve before turning back to his boss. The Man's wrist twisted in a quick motion, and a long switchblade appeared in his hand.

"I dislike being unable to prevent the deaths of my friends, Ulquiorra. I dislike being taken as a game, as well. But most of all, I dislike – no – I _despise_ being disrespected. Sosuke has no idea who he is fucking around with." The Man's voice was like shaved ice, but his eyes were on fire. Gin could practically feel the heat from where he was standing, almost ten feet away. "Hold his face," The Man said.

As if on cue, one of his personal bodyguards drifted forward and forcefully gripped Ulquiorra's chin. If Ulquiorra had been the lackey of anyone other than Sosuke Aizen, Gin would have felt maybe a tiny ounce of remorse for the man. But he wasn't, so sympathy didn't belong here. Ulquiorra's eyes went wide, but he still didn't say anything or make a sound, even as the huge bodyguard held his chin steady and pried his mouth open.

Gin had never considered himself a squeamish man, but it didn't keep him from flinching when The Man took hold of Ulquiorra's tongue and sliced through it with his switchblade. Javier held the severed tongue in his palm and studied it as if he were preparing to make a report. After a moment or two, he turned to one of his bodyguards and held it in the air. Through the entire ordeal, Ulquiorra hadn't uttered a peep, but his face was abnormally pale, his eyes squeezed shut, and sweat running profusely down the sides of his temples and cheeks. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, and blood freely flowed over his lips and under his chin, where it dripped onto his suit.

Gin thinned his lips and glanced at his sister, certain that she would show emotion of some sort. When he met her frightened eyes, he nodded. This was no laughing matter. He'd witnessed The Man committing despicable acts on many previous occasions, but never one so personal and gory.

"Cauterize his wound, and send him on his way. I'm sure we'll hear from Sosuke in the next few days," Javier ordered.

He sounded like he was giving a weather update.

The bodyguards sprang into action, but Gin stuffed his hands into his pockets and whirled on his heel, anxious to leave the darkened room. If he didn't have to see it, then, he didn't want to. He wasn't the only who felt that way. Genevieve was right on his heels as he exited the room. She slammed the door shut on Ulquiorra's one scream of agony before she ran her hands over her face and took a deep breath.

"I don' scare easily, but Javier terrifies me," she mumbled through long fingers.

Gin didn't see the need to respond. His sister knew by the look on his face that he wholeheartedly agreed with her. He shuddered and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Fuck, he needed a smoke.

XOXOXO

He could hear his cell phone ringing in his captor's pocket. He peered at the brown-skinned man from the corner of his eye, only to find dark eyes narrowed on him as well. They were at another red light, and Ichigo was sorely tempted to unlock the door and hop out. But then again, the guy had a gun. That was the only reason Ichigo didn't attempt to escape. The last thing he wanted was to get shot again. He huffed and turned back to the window, his stomach in an absolute uproar. He wished Grimmjow was alive, wished the man could come and help him out of the scrape he'd gotten himself into.

The car screeched away from the light and wheeled around the nearest corner. Ichigo didn't understand why he was being allowed to see where they were going...unless this guy planned to kill him once they arrived. A strong shudder swept his frame and sent his heart into his mouth. What the hell could he do? How was he going to stay alive? Tears pressed at the back of his eyes as he tried not to lose control of his breathing. In through the nose; out through the mouth.

_Calm down. There's gotta be a reason for all of this_.

He was very near panicking. His thoughts were all over the place, distracting him from what was happening in the here and now, but he couldn't help it. One minute, he was missing his dead boyfriend, and the next, he was trying to figure out how the hell he could contact one of his loved ones – or even a friend. Someone! He stared out of the window. Maybe if he memorized where he was, he could somehow get away and...

His head flopped back against the seat cushion, and his eyes squeezed shut. Get away how? And who was to say that this man wouldn't shoot him right there in the car once they reached their destination? Ichigo had no idea what to expect, and it was slowly driving him mad. He felt like he was on a roller coaster, the car at the very top of a steep hill. With that came the expectation of going down...and fast. But he was confused as well. He didn't understand what this man wanted from him. Hell, he'd already taken Grimmjow away from him. What more could he possibly want?

The car entered a rough neighborhood that even Ichigo was unfamiliar with. No wonder the man hadn't bothered to blindfold him. There was no need. Even if Ichigo managed to escape, he wouldn't know where the hell he was, especially not without his cell phone. He sighed, once again panic and anxiety trying to make him breathless. He figured he was doing a good job of keeping his composure...until the car finally came to a stop at a rundown apartment building. There was a plethora of guys littering the streets, all of them wearing variations of red, black and white, and all of them wearing equally frightening scowls. Ichigo's eyes went wide, and his heart started a furious attempt to escape his chest. He wasn't ready for this! He didn't want to die! He'd done nothing wrong!

His captor hopped out of the vehicle, gun still in hand. He said something to a couple of guys who were standing outside of the entrance to the building before he came over to the passenger side and snatched open the door. Fear overcame Ichigo.

"What're you gonna do to me?" he asked as he shrank away from the man standing over him.

The dark-haired man grinned like it was his favorite holiday. "Now, why would I spoil the surprise?" He reached into the car, grabbed Ichigo by the forearm and hauled him upright. "Let's go, Princess. Don't know what you scared for; you take dick up your ass, right? This'll be a breeze, trust me."

Ichigo was terrified. He wanted to sob, wanted to call for help. It was the second worst feeling in the world, being this helpless. The man ushered him to the building, past the cronies standing around the open doorway.

"Make sure no one comes to the apartment."

All of them nodded as Ichigo watched in horror. Did none of them have a shred of decency? Didn't they see how fucking scared he was? No, they all just looked on with sinister smirks. Ichigo was led inside to an elevator, where the brown-skinned man stabbed the call button with the nose of his gun. While they waited, the man stared at Ichigo like he was the lowest life form on the face of the planet. Like Ichigo had killed his first born child. It was so unnerving.

The elevator arrived, and the man nudged Ichigo inside. It was small and smelled like metal, piss and cigarettes. The man pressed the button for the fifth floor, and just as the doors slid shut, Ichigo's phone started ringing in the man's pocket again. The man grinned and gave Ichigo a calm, condescending look.

"I wonder who that could be."

"Why are you doing this?" Ichigo couldn't help but to ask. "Grimmjow's...he's already dead. _You_ killed him!"

The words left a bitter taste in Ichigo's mouth as he glared at his captor. He was so angry, but there was nothing he could do except try to find out why this man was holding him hostage.

"And I enjoyed every moment of it, too. He was nothin' but a big, blue thorn in my side."

Tears of rage stung the backs of Ichigo's eyes. How could this man be so cold and cruel? How could he rub something of that caliber into Ichigo's face? Ichigo could honestly say that he'd never felt the urge to kill someone until now. This man made him want to kill him slowly, torturing him until it hurt just to think.

Before Ichigo could say anything else, the elevator came to a stop and the man shoved him out into the hallway. The rough push made Ichigo stumble into the opposite wall, unable to control his balance due to the handcuffs. He was led to the far end of the hall, where the man produced a set of keys and opened a sturdy-looking, metal door. The guy closed the door and locked it before guiding Ichigo over to a corner of what appeared to be a spacious living room. He pushed him down onto a filthy, white blanket and lowered himself into a squat in front of Ichigo, the deadly gun inches from Ichigo's face.

"So, this is gonna be your new home until I get ready ta let you go. My name is Kaname Tousen. You might wanna remember that, so when you die, you'll know who sent you to Hell."

Ichigo was so pissed, he gathered as much spit in his mouth as he could and sent it hurling at Tousen's face. Unfortunately, the man was too fast, so he dodged it. His retaliation was even faster, though. He reared back and punched Ichigo, splitting his bottom lip on contact. Ichigo didn't make a sound, didn't even react, even though his head was swimming and his lip was stinging.

"I suggest you play nice, you little punk," Tousen growled as he pressed the gun to Ichigo's forehead. "_I_ have the gun. Not _you_. You better act like it."

After a few moments of glaring, Tousen climbed to his feet and went across the room to a small dining table. He grabbed what looked like a small makeup bag and a short length of rope before making his way back to Ichigo. Ichigo hugged his knees to his chest, trying to keep as far away from the evil asshole as he could, but it was futile. Tousen lowered himself to eye level again, this time, tying the rope around Ichigo's ankles to keep his legs from moving. Once he was satisfied with the immovable knot, he clutched the bag and opened it, the rasping of the zipper almost deafening in the room. Ichigo watched in stunned horror as Tousen took his time laying out a syringe, a lighter, a spoon, a bottle of water, a rubber tourniquet, and a tiny baggy of beige-colored powder.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he shrieked. But he knew. He'd seen it a couple of times, but never got too close to the stuff. The effects of that drug were devastating. "Please! _Please_! I-I'll do whatever you want! Just don't give me that stuff!" he yelled, voice cracking as he finally broke down. "I swear I won't say anything!" he sobbed.

Tousen smirked, but never once looked up from his task of preparing the heroin. "Ya know, I heard that G's parents before he went to a foster family were junkies. So, I asked myself, wouldn't it be nice to make his little princess one before he died too?"

Ichigo felt like he'd never cried so hard in his life. He kicked his feet, trying to waste the drug as Tousen cooked it up, but all he received for his efforts was a harsh blow to the head with the butt of Tousen's gun. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out cold, but it did stun him enough to keep him still. He felt Tousen straighten his right arm a little before tying on the tourniquet; he felt the man palpating for his vein; he felt the sharp bite of the needle as it sank beneath his skin; and finally, he felt a rush of euphoria that went straight to his head. Before he knew it, he was leaning onto his side, his eyes hooded and heart beating slowly as a cool, pleasant stream flowed through his veins. His vision danced and blurred, and distantly, he heard the sound of his cell phone ringing again. The last thing he saw was Tousen's face, wearing a sideways grin.

"Nighty-night, little punk."

XOXOXO

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew that Grimmjow would kill him. Probably rip his balls off at the root if he found out. But he just couldn't stand it; he had to do _something_. Grimmjow was still at the army base with Javier's soldiers, pricks that they were, and Shinji had left with the excuse of a bad headache. He crept into their shared room at Barragan's mansion and locked the door before going over to his bed. He grabbed his phone and stared at the screen for a few moments. What would he say? Would Shiro even answer? He had to find out. The suspense, anxiety and not knowing was killing him. He missed his lover so much, and he felt like shit about the way they'd parted.

He hit the call button and waited with bated breath. _Please pick up, babe_, he chanted in his mind. _Please!_ The phone rang four times before an agitated voice came over the line.

"What the _fuck_ do you want, you _asshole_? You've got a lot of nerve calling me like this!"

Shinji was so relieved and happy to hear Shiro's voice, he didn't even care that the man was cursing him out. "I love you."

A profound silence fell. Shinji sat with his head hanging towards his lap, heart racing like crazy. After what felt like forever, Shiro huffed.

"I'm hangin' up."

"Shiro, jus' listen ta me. I meant it. I still do. I jus'...I jus' had some business ta take care of that I couldn't tell ya 'bout. 'Member what I said 'bout this gang business? How some shit ya jus' can't know? Well, this is one a'those things. I'm comin' home in about three weeks, an' it'd be nice ta come home ta my boyfriend. I hope ya can forgive me fer...fer hittin' ya. I swear, I didn' mean it. I jus' didn't want ya ta get hurt from tryna follow me 'er somethin'."

He finally stopped talking, his stomach churning and heart pounding. Shiro had gone quiet again, and Shinji was surprised that the man hadn't interrupted his speech.

"Shin," Shiro started, voice thick with emotion. "If yer not back here in a month, I'm not answering my phone for ya ever again. Ya hear me?"

Shinji wanted to shout and dance, but he settled on smiling broadly and chuckling with relief. "I promise. I _promise_, Shiro. I'll be there in three weeks, an' we can start over. Ya miss me?"

"Of course I fuckin' miss you. I didn' want to, but I do. That's what happens when ya really love someone, and I got too much goin' on over here ta be worryin' 'bout you playin' games wit' me."

Shinji heard the distress in Shiro's voice and frowned. "What's goin' on?"

Instead of answering, Shiro sniffed and blew out a breath. Shinji instantly sat up. Was Shiro crying? What the hell had happened?

"Hey, talk ta me. What happened?"

Shiro started sobbing, and it was all Shinji could do not to hop the next plane out of Colombia. "I-I...I...We can't find Ichigo!" he finally blurted. "It's been a week, an' no one's seen 'er heard from 'im! He ain't answerin' his phone 'er nothin'! Shin, I can't find my fuckin' brother!"

Shinji felt all the blood leave his face as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As if things weren't bad enough with that asshole Luis breathing down Grimmjow's neck, trying to usurp his authority. Now, this. Oh, man, what a damned dilemma. Shinji was caught between a rock and a hard place. He wasn't supposed to talk to Shiro until they went back to America, so how was he supposed to tell Grimmjow that he'd found out that Ichigo had gone missing? This was probably the worst news Shinji could have received, Shiro not taking him back not included. If he told Grimmjow about his lover going missing, his head would be in a dangerous place, and he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the job at hand. But...he couldn't just not tell his best friend. It was something that Grimmjow needed to know.

"_Fuck_," he whispered. "Shiro. Shiro, calm down."

Shiro was totally distraught. He was crying so hard, he was hiccuping. "I dunno know what ta do! The last place he was seen was at his school! After that, he jus' _disappeared_! What if somethin's happened! What if...what if he's dead?"

"Don't think like that," Shinji stated firmly. "Goddammit," he growled. "Gimme some time ta figure out what we can do an' I'll call ya back, OK, babe?"

Shiro sniffed loudly and calmed just enough to utter a shaky, "Alright."

When Shinji hung up the phone, he ran both hands through his hair in agitation. This whole situation had gone from bad to completely fucked in a matter of minutes. How the hell was he supposed to tell his best friend that the man he was looking so forward to seeing upon their return was very likely dead?

XOXOXO

It'd been another long day, but Grimmjow was feeling more and more optimistic. He was going home in three weeks, and he couldn't wait. He'd spoken with Javier again, ironing out last minute details of their return, but all he could think about was Ichigo. Ichigo would be pissed to know that he'd been alive after all, but once he got over that and realized that Grimmjow was there and still wanted to be with him, everything would go back to being how it was...but better. Much better. Grimmjow wouldn't have to worry about the burden of being the head of his family anymore. He could live out the rest of his days in relative peace. He might have to lay low for a while, but it was worth it if he could do so with Ichigo.

He grinned as he made his way to his work truck. Just three more weeks, and he could hold the man he loved in his arms again. The thought alone was enough to sustain him for his remaining time in Colombia. However, he had his hands full with Luis. The dark-haired man had mysteriously up and disappeared from the base, along with about fifty of Javier's men. It was disconcerting, but nothing Grimmjow couldn't handle. He'd been in worse situations. Still, he covered his bases. He had a few guys that Barragan trusted, searching for the missing men. Once they found them, they were to report it back to Grimmjow as well as Barragan so the necessary steps could be taken in order to keep the peace.

He climbed into the truck and motored towards Barragan's mansion. He wondered what Shinji was up to. He knew his best friend too well, not to realize that the blond was holding out on him. Shinji was indeed sneaky when he wanted to be, but he could never fool Grimmjow. Grimmjow pulled into the circular drive of the mansion, cut the engine, and hopped out. He made his way to the door and stepped inside, arching a brow at the eerie silence of the large house. Where was everyone? He didn't even smell any food cooking.

Shrugging, he climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Shinji and turned the knob once he reached the door. Shinji was seated at the foot of his bed, hands wringing and guilt written all over his face. Grimmjow closed the door behind himself and sighed.

"What the hell did you do now?" he snapped.

Shinji gave him a haunted look, then opened and closed his mouth a few times before hanging his head. Grimmjow frowned. That wasn't Shinji's normal, I-did-something-bad face. He was really disturbed about something. And then, it clicked in Grimmjow's mind.

"Ya jus' couldn't wait, could ya?"

Shinji sighed harshly and shook his head. "I had ta talk ta 'im, Grimm. I _had_ ta."

"Shin! This ain't no laughin' matter! What'd you tell him?"

"I didn't say nothin' 'bout you, but...but..._shit_, this ain't easy," Shinji ended in a grumble.

Grimmjow stalked over to his best friend until he was standing right in front of him. "What the fuck did you do?"

Shinji looked up, eyes a mixture of sadness, fear and concern. "I didn' do nothin'. It's what I _heard_ that's botherin' me."

That took the anger out of him. If Shinji hadn't blabbed, then, what the hell had him acting like he'd seen a ghost? Grimmjow went over to his own bed and plopped onto it.

"So, what's up? Why ya lookin' like that?"

Shinji turned his body in Grimmjow's direction and took a visible, deep breath. "Man, there ain't no way ta soften this blow, but...I gotta tell ya. My conscience would eat me alive if I didn'."

That put a cold ball of dread in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach, but he disguised it and said, "Well, I'm ready whenever ya wanna stop beatin' aroun' the bush."

Shinji's eyes met his, and time seemed to stand still. He'd never seen his best friend look so serious.

"Shiro told me that Ichigo's gone missin'. They haven' heard from 'im in a week."

It felt like all the blood left his body in a rush until his fingers were numb and his body shook. He didn't know what to feel first. He was in shock, paralyzed with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time: fear. It was icy-cold, like a breath of Winter air. It gripped his entire body as he stared at Shinji, hoping the man would crack his signature grin and tell him it was all a joke. But Shinji held his gaze, golden-brown eyes uncertain. And then, a rage so deep-rooted and dangerous reached over and placed Grimmjow in a choke-hold. With him "dead," Ichigo was supposed to be safe. Tousen should have gone on with his business, happy as a pig in shit. Grimmjow had no doubt in his mind that Tousen was behind Ichigo's disappearance, and because of that, Tousen's life was officially forfeited. Grimmjow couldn't even think straight, but he didn't act out. This kind of anger made him quiet and emotionless. Deadly, even. He climbed to his feet and stalked over to the door, where he stopped with his hand on the knob and glanced at Shinji over his shoulder.

"C'mon. We're goin' the fuck home."

**Oi...I'm tired now, but I'll be back to writing tomorrow. I didn't proofread this, so please forgive any errors. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**This is the last chapter for this story. I hope you enjoy it, and please do take the time to read the song lyrics at the end. Better yet, listen to the song. You may like it more! John Legend-Who Did That To You. **

**Sorry for any errors! I really didn't feel like proofreading :(**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

What he saw made him ecstatic. He stood over the orange-haired youngster with a smirk spreading his lips. The boy had been his captive for a few days shy of a month, and he had every symptom of being hopelessly dependent on Tousen's drug of choice. Most might find the sight a tad tragic, but Tousen was proud to exclude himself from that group. He reveled in the grubby state of the boy. Everything about him was torn down and depressed, but Tousen really enjoyed the fact that the kid was totally broken. He begged for his next hit like a desperate whore; it was delightful. Tousen wondered what G would think of his plaything now. He knew without a doubt that the blue-haired gangster abhorred fiends of any kind. Too bad he was already dead. Maybe he was frowning and bitching from his own personal Hell. Tousen could only hope.

He squatted in front of Ichigo and studied the face that used to be fresh and energetic. He reached forward and gripped the narrow chin, grinning when Ichigo gave a drastic flinch. He'd succeeded in his plan, but now he was growing bored.

"I'm tired of playing with you, Ichigo," he sighed. Brown eyes widened as fear overwhelmed them. Tousen chuckled and shook his head. "I thought it'd be fun to kill you when I got done torturing you, but now I think letting you free on the streets might be a lot more entertaining. What do you think?"

Ichigo's lips were dry and cracked, his eyes glazed. He shook his head and almost hyperventilated. "N-no! P-please don't!"

Mentally and emotionally, Ichigo was a wreck. All he knew was heroin and sleep. Tousen gave him just enough food and water to keep him from dying, but the kid was afforded no other luxury. Hell, he barely wanted to provide Ichigo with toilet paper for the bathroom.

"Why not? I thought you wanted to go home? Isn't that what you begged for a couple of weeks ago?"

Ichigo's eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for _something_. Tousen knew what that something was, but wasn't in a hurry to provide it. He reeled the boy in with an amiable smile, his head tilted to the side in mock concern.

Ichigo grabbed his arms, his gaze imploring. "I can't! I-I don't know what I would do out there! I _have_ to stay here!"

Tousen could just barely contain his excitement. When he'd first brought Ichigo to the apartment, the boy had been feisty and rebellious, fighting him at every turn. Now he was a tattered creature with no shame or pride. No dignity. Tousen turned Ichigo's face, continuing to study the sharp features. Where there once had been a healthy young man, there was now a ghost. The brown eyes were haunted and sunken into a severely thin face, his lips were cracked and split, his skin blotchy and dry. His figure was gaunt and gangly, and his smell was something that couldn't be described.

"I think you'll be fine. Besides, you can go home to your family. I'm sure they miss you."

Ichigo shook his head again, this time with wild fervor. "I can't," he whispered, voice breaking and hesitant. "They'll hate me."

"Nahhhh," Tousen crooned, loving every second of the boy's misfortune. "They'll be glad to have you back. You've been all over the news, didn't you know?"

"N-no. I didn't know."

"Well, ya have. So, that makes you little more than an inconvenience to me. It's time I let you fend for yourself."

"You said you were going to kill me."

Oh, this was _rich_.

"I changed my mind. Shouldn't you be happy that I'm being so merciful?"

Tears welled in the dull brown eyes as Ichigo shook his head. "I'd rather die. Please! Please, let me die!"

Tousen chuckled again as he let go of Ichigo's face. He climbed to his feet and turned his back, headed for the door.

"I don't think so. I _will_ leave you a little present, though. Call it a parting gift."

He sauntered over to the table in the small dining area and left a plastic-wrapped bundle on its surface. Afterward, he went to the door. There, he paused and glanced at the orange-haired youngster over his shoulder.

"I'm not locking this door. I suggest you leave before I get back, or else I won't bring you anymore goodies."

With that, he left the apartment, grinning like it was his birthday. He had a date with his informant, who had told him over the phone this morning that he would hand over the entire Crip family: their location, their operations...everything. As he stopped in front of the elevator, his cell phone started up a loud trilling in his back pocket. He snatched it free and blinked at the readout. He didn't recognize the number. Frowning, he answered the call.

"Yo, who's this?"

There was a brief pause before a female voice snorted and gave an airy chuckle. "You're too easy to find, my friend."

Immediately, his stomach churned. "I said, who the fuck is this?"

A breathy sigh and then, "Don't worry. You'll find out soon enough. I just want you to know that we know where you are, and you have something of ours that we want back as soon as possible."

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about, bitch! I ain't got shit a'yours!"

"I beg to differ, _Kaname Tousen_. You very much have something of ours. Or more like, _someone_."

The woman paused, clearly in order to let her last statement sink in. Like a ton of bricks, it did. There was only one person this woman could refer to: Ichigo. But how did she know? He'd been careful with his whereabouts, careful to watch for tails in his rear view. What advantage could she possibly have that would give her such knowledge? Or was she bluffing? That was also an option. He grinned as he boarded the elevator.

"You don't know shit."

She outright laughed. "I wanted to be nice about this. Maybe let you keep your miserable life since someone else has a better claim on your head, but you're going about this all wrong. You see, we _know_ that you've been keeping a certain young man at 337 Walker Road, apartment 6C. All we're asking is that you give him back with no fuss, and this will end smoothly. Whattaya say, Tousen? Wanna trade?"

He barked a laugh. "That would imply that you have something to give me in return. Is there something you ain't tellin' me?"

"Maybe. Meet me dockside in an hour and we can talk more about it."

Before he could respond, the call ended. Cursing, he stuffed his cell back into his pocket and left the rundown building. He was officially nervous. The woman knew more than she should. Not only that, but what other choice did he have but to meet up with her? Yes, it was risking his life, but letting things go wouldn't help his situation, either. He gritted his teeth as he made his way to his car. His meeting with his informant would have to wait. He had a more pressing issue to deal with.

XOXOXO

"Tats, let me ghost him, pleeeease?" Nel begged as she leaned against the hood of the truck. "It won't make a difference who does it, long as it's done, right?"

Tatsuki adjusted the gun in her black, leather jacket and shook her head. "No, you _know_ we can't do that. Besides, we've gotta bigger issue to worry about."

Halibel appeared next to Nel, quiet as a Prius engine. "We get the boy, and that's it."

Nel sucked her teeth, the toothpick in her mouth shifting to the left corner of her lips. "That's not fair. We haven't had fun in a long time, an' I'm itchin' ta splatter some Bloods."

"Yeah, well, we do _this_ first," Tatsuki answered, straightening as a pair of headlights bounced into view. "Go time, ladies."

Yoruichi slid out of the driver seat of the truck and stood beside Tatsuki as the dark-green Acura belonging to their target pulled to a stop a few feet away. She put her hand on Tatsuki's shoulder, golden eyes worried. Tatsuki grinned.

"Everything'll be fine, babe. Trust me."

They watched as a tall, brown-skinned man climbed out of the car and strolled over to them, a gun in his right hand and a smile on his face.

"Well! Good evenin', bitches!"

Nel growled and muttered, "Lemme shoot him, Tats. He's beggin' for it."

"Shut up," Tatsuki hissed before plastering on a cheerful grin. "So! Maybe you're not the coward we thought you were!" she called back.

"You'll find I'm not that easy ta scare."

Tatsuki chuckled, even though she was filled with loathing. There was no telling what this asshole had done to Ichigo, but if she judged by his track record, she would have to assume that it was nothing good.

"We're not tryin' ta scare you, Tousen. In fact," she paused and glanced at the girls. "We wanna make a deal."

Tousen's dark eyes narrowed as he came to a stop about five feet away. He tucked his free hand into his jeans pocket and let his head fall to the side. "Now, why would you wanna do something like that?"

"Honestly? _We_ don't wanna do shit. No, lemme correct that. _We_ wanna smear your worthless ass across the pavement. However, the people we work for have something else in mind."

"Oh, yeah? An' who the fuck're these people you work for? They got names?"

Nel's laughter was like a gunshot. "Ha! As if, you turd."

Halibel grinned while Yoruichi cackled. Tatsuki decided not to let the giggle in her chest free. Instead, she shook her head and made herself comfortable against the hood of their truck.

"Don't insult us, Tousen. We don't take kindly to that. You know as well as we do that giving the names of our superiors is suicide. So, let's skip all the name-calling and bullshittin' around, and get down to business, huh?"

Tousen's reply was a sinister grin and a careful pause. After a few beats, he snorted a chuckle.

"Who's to say I won't kill you bitches right here and right now?"

Nel straightened, but Halibel put a hand on her chest. "Calm down."

Tatsuki ambled away from the hood of the truck and went to the trunk, where she produced a small, black duffel bag. She wandered back over to Tousen, tossing the bag at his feet.

"Open it," she said, indicating the bag with her chin.

Tousen scowled at her and then at the bag. "Yeah fuckin' right. Ya think I'm stupid?"

Nel. "Yeah."

"Look, if we wanted to kill you, it wouldn't take creativity. Just open the fuckin' bag. We got other things to do," Tatsuki snapped, impatient.

Tousen kept on scowling for a few moments, but curiosity must have driven him to crouch down and open the bag. The zipper rasped in the tense silence.

"What the fuck is this?" he snarled.

Tatsuki grinned. "What's it look like?"

"See?" Nel said, voice dry. "Stupid."

Tousen stood and glared at them, dark eyes full of suspicion. "Who's this for?"

"You, dumbass. Duh." Nel again.

Yoruichi chuckled and shook her head. "You don't leave an impression of confidence, do you?"

"Fuck you. All of you. This don't make sense. Why the fuck are you givin' me a bag full of money?"

Tatsuki took the reins. "Well, our bosses want you to lay low for a while. Take the bread and get gone."

Nel nudged her in the ribs. "That ain't the plan," she hissed.

Tatsuki kept talking. "The way I see it, you can disappear, and everyone will be happy. There's enough in there to get you started far away from here, don't ya think?"

"I don't get it," Tousen mumbled.

His confusion was obvious. Tatsuki took a risk and walked right up to him, hands in her pockets.

"We want Ichigo, Tousen. So...you either take this bag and leave, or we kill you right now."

She could hear the girls muttering their own confusion and disapproval, but she didn't care. Ichigo was a friend of hers, and she refused to let anything happen to him. Well, anything further.

Tousen grinned. "Yeah, I'll keep this," he said as he grabbed the strap and tossed it over his shoulder. "And since you already know where I've been keeping the kid, I suggest you hurry. You might catch him before he ODs."

Tatsuki's blood ran cold as she stared at the man who everyone wanted dead. OD? Was he saying what she thought he was? Tousen caught the fear and panic in her eyes, and his smile widened.

"Adios, bitches."

Tatsuki didn't bother waiting for the man to get in his car. She sprinted to the driver's side of the truck and hopped inside. "Let's go!" she hollered.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she cranked the ignition. The rest of the girls swept into the truck, all of them shouting questions and exclamations of bewilderment, but Tatsuki ignored them.

They had to get to Ichigo.

XOXOXO

He never should have trusted him. His friends had warned him; hell, even his father had told him to look out for it. But he hadn't listened. And now he was here...following the man he'd given his heart and trust. He was too stoic to shed tears, but this was killing him.

_How could he betray me like this?_

The man he followed climbed out of his car and leaned against the hood, glancing at his watch. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought the man was behaving normally. Waiting for _him_, even. He couldn't watch any longer. He left the shadows, .45 at his side. The other man didn't hear him until it was too late. Golden eyes shot in his direction, wide and full of astonished fear.

"What are you doing here?"

Ishida lowered his head and gritted his teeth, trying to rein in his anger and hurt. When he felt himself decently composed, he raised his head and glared at his lover.

"I should be asking _you_ that."

Szayel smirked as he pushed away from his car. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You know exactly why _I'm_ here, and you know exactly why _you're_ here. You just didn't think I'd find out."

A heavy silence fell until Szayel's curiosity got the best of him. "How did you find out?"

Ishida shook his head and looked away. He couldn't believe he was here. Couldn't believe he had to do what he came to do.

"I see how he must've felt. This shit sucks."

Szayel frowned, clearly confused. But he knew. He had to know. Hell, he knew everything there was to know. _Everything_.

"G once told me that losing someone you loved hurt like a bitch, but _killing_ the one you loved hurt a thousand times more. I always listened and felt sorry for him, thinking I would never have to go through that. But here I am. Here _we_ are."

"So, you're going to kill me?"

"Stop it, Szayel! Don't act like you didn't know this was a possibility when you did what you did!"

Silence. Ishida stared at his lover like he was ghost. He couldn't understand why Szayel would stab him in the back so thoroughly.

"Why?" he asked.

Szayel shook his head and threw his hands up. "Why? You ask _why_? As if you don't know!"

"I don't! We were happy as far as I knew!"

The pink-haired man snorted and shook his head again. "Your family – your _Crip_ family – always came first. You put them before me every time. I figured this was the only way to get your attention."

Stunned, all Ishida could do was stare. But then, he exploded. "Are you fucking kidding me?! You turned on me, you tried to get people I care about killed because you thought it would get my attention?! You can't possibly be that fucking needy!"

"Needy?! How dare you?!"

Ishida raised his weapon and aimed. Unable to tame his wrath, his hand shook and his lip curled back. His heart was going insane.

"You...I have nothing to say to you except that I hope you enjoy Hell, you piece of shit," he snarled through clenched teeth.

The first shot killed him, but Ishida emptied the clip in the man he once called his lover and friend. Once the silence settled back in, he whirled on his heel and left the scene, tears tracking down the sides of his face.

He needed a drink.

XOXOXO

He stared at the door as if he expected a S.W.A.T. team to burst through any second now. He had chills, but his skin was feverish. His body felt like it'd been used as a punching bag, his very bones creaking and aching. His bowels were a mess, and his mouth was _so dry_, like he had a never-ending thirst. He glanced down at his clothes, inwardly disgusted with his appearance. He still wore the same outfit he'd been captured in, but they fell from his frame like clothes on a hanger. They were soiled beyond belief, and he smelled terrible. However, through all of that, he could only focus on one thing: the next time he could ride euphoria. He trembled as his stomach heaved. He had nothing left in his belly to vomit, but his gut believed otherwise.

He bent over, clutching his midsection and gasping for air. It was always like this: the pain, the overwhelming urge that controlled everything he did. He needed a fix, and Tousen had left the solution on the dining room table. Ichigo had the equipment he needed to prepare it; all he had to do was walk over and grab it.

So, he did.

He carefully climbed to his feet, his body swaying as he steadied himself. He felt like shit. He hated himself for being so weak, so fucking pathetic. No one knew where he was, but that could be solved as well with him walking out of that door. Tousen had given him his freedom, but it was too late. Ichigo was addicted to heroin. He was like an infant needing its mother's milk. He would die – wither up and waste away – if he didn't have his "medicine." Tears of self-loathing stung his eyes as his body involuntarily moved over to the table. He stood over the plastic bundle, his conscience arguing with him to just turn and leave. Find help. Find his family.

But he couldn't. Though his mind screamed the right thing to do, his body, that despicable _need_ drove him towards the drug that had poisoned his life and turned him into a mere shell of the man he used to be. He grabbed the bundle and hustled it over to his dirty mattress, where he'd stashed his equipment. His hands shook as he opened the bag and found his tools. He hated this part. He just wanted to feel good, but up until the dope entered his veins, he was a desperate slave. Everything about the process disgusted him. What would his friends think of him? His brother? His sisters? ...His father? He knew, alright. They would glare at him and call him a weakling. Tell him he was stupid and pitiful. They'd curse him and shun him. More than likely they'd disown him and carry on as if he'd never existed in the first place.

The tears he'd tried to hold back flowed freely over his sharp cheekbones. He was nothing. All he wanted at this point was to die. At least that way he'd see Grimmjow again.

The thought of his dead lover made him pause, the lighter active underneath the metal spoon. He stared at the blue and orange flame, heart thudding with anticipation, but also with a monumental amount of revulsion and remorse. He didn't even know who he was anymore, but he remembered the blue-haired man who had promised him happiness. Promised to be there for him, promised to love him. And then, died.

Ichigo's face pulled together as he sobbed, his nose beginning to run. Initially, he'd placed just enough of the drug on the spoon to get him by until the next urge gripped him. However, as he fell into the depths of despair, he thought to himself, _why not just end it here?_ There was more than enough dope in the bundle to send him into a lasting euphoria – one where he wouldn't wake up again. No one would miss him, he was sure. No one had come looking for him. Yeah, Tousen had mentioned him being in the news, but with Ichigo's old man's connections, there should have been no way that he hadn't been found by now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he added more of the drug to his spoon. "I can't do this anymore."

He thought of his family as he watched the beige powder become liquid. He thought of all the fun he'd had with his brother, back when he wasn't an addict. As he loaded up the syringe, he thought of his sisters and how he hoped they would make something of themselves. He had a moment of regret when he realized he would never see his niece or nephew, but it passed when he realized the kid would be better off without him around. He tied off his arm with a bright blue tourniquet, sniffing as he tried to ebb the flow of his tears. Just a few more moments and he could see Grimmjow. He'd get to see the blue eyes that haunted his dreams; he'd get to run his fingers through the soft, blue hair he missed every time he touched something; he'd get to hear the deep voice, the sarcastic, intense tenor.

He no longer felt the bite of the needle as he pierced his skin, too numb, too immune. He had track marks all over his arms – one more wouldn't change a thing. The immediate rush he felt as he pressed the plunger of the syringe was better than anything he'd ever experienced. Not even sex came close. The warmth spread throughout his body as he emptied the syringe and removed the needle from his arm. For a few moments, everything was sheer bliss. His eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall, completely enjoying his high.

But then his heart started pounding way too hard, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't open his eyes. Something was wrong. He couldn't control the twitching in his arms and legs, couldn't control his body at all. The last thing he heard above the roaring of the blood in his brain was a loud boom and frantic shouting.

XOXOXO

Aizen stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of his office and stared at the skyline. He studied the buildings and roads in the distance, the lights winking – anything to keep his mind from the box on his desk.

It wasn't working.

He glanced over his shoulder, his jaw tightening at the sight of blood on a white handkerchief that hung over the sides of a shoe box. The brand was expensive and Italian, he supposed adding insult to injury. There was no note, no video, no message at all, but he understood too well. His right hand man was missing, and had been for about a month. It didn't throw a wrench into his operation or his daily way of handling business, but the implication was more than he needed to deal with at the time.

He took another languid puff from the cigar in his hand as he turned back to the window. Yes, Ulquiorra was his right hand man, and Aizen was certain that Javier meant to use the man to his advantage. But what Javier didn't realize was that those who dealt with Aizen, employee or otherwise, was expendable. He didn't need _anyone_. He was more friendly with Ulquiorra in general, but that didn't mean he _needed_ the man. One had to be cold in his line of work, or every angle would be used against him – that included anyone he may consider a friend. It was the main reason he had none. He only relied on himself in the end.

He went to his desk to face the problem head-on. He knew what Javier wanted. He also knew why the man was upset with his choice of actions, but that was where Javier's weakness lie. The Man had too many friends, too many people he cared about. He reached for the phone on his desk and dialed.

"Yeah, who's this?"

Aizen frowned. He hated being addressed in such a manner. "I need you to set up a meeting at the warehouse."

A brief silence preceded the other man's words, "Yes, sir."

When he hung up the phone, he rubbed the space between his eyebrows, frustrated. There was always an issue that he personally needed to see to. This one was more urgent than any others he'd encountered, simply because Javier was a formidable opponent, no matter the man's weaknesses. Aizen put out his cigar in the custom, crystal ashtray he'd bought from London, grabbed his coat from the back of his desk chair, and moved towards the door. He shut off the lights as he left his office. The hallway was silent as usual. No one came to this floor without his express permission, so the elevator ride to the garage was a rather peaceful one. The doors dinged open, and he entered the dim parking lot, his coattails swishing behind him as he walked to his car with a brisk, determined stride. As soon as he reached the black Mercedes, the sound of a gun cocking made him dive to the ground in time to miss being shot in the head. The bullet tore through his coat as well as his arm.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pressed his back to the passenger side door of his car and steadied his breathing. _What the hell?_ he thought. _Who would be so foolish?_

Footsteps sounded in the echoing silence before a feminine voice chuckled. "Come out, come out, wherever you arrrrrrrre."

Aizen didn't much appreciate the sarcasm, nor the taunting. In his line of work, _he_ did the sarcasm. _He_ did the taunting. _He_ did the killing. Who was this woman? As soon as the question popped into his mind, the answer followed swiftly behind.

Javier.

And The Man didn't even have the decency to do his own dirty work. This sort of underestimation was a dire insult not only to Aizen's character, but to his intelligence as well. He reached into his coat for the nine millimeter he kept with him. He checked to make sure it was loaded, then peered beneath his car for the legs of his assailant. She was smart...and careful. Her legs were out of sight, but Aizen could still hear her movements.

"Why dontcha come out so we can chat, huh?" she called.

The insolence made him breathless. Anger arose in him so acutely, it was all he could do not to jump to his feet and empty his clip into her until her body lay lifeless on the pavement. Instead, he waited. He listened. Her steps paused every three falls. He would make use of those steps; catch her off guard while she was still moving.

The next time the woman moved, Aizen rolled onto his stomach, grimacing from the pain in his arm. He found her location and fired. The first bullet caught her leg. The woman shrieked in pain, but she didn't go down. A slew of bullets rained down on his Mercedes before there was echoing silence. He didn't hear any footsteps, but that didn't mean the woman was gone. Nor was she dead. At most, she had a flesh wound. After a few more moments of pressing quiet, Aizen raised his head to the window and glanced around the garage. He didn't hear her, couldn't see her. Suddenly, however, the screeching of tires alerted him to the woman's escape. He leaped to his feet and showered the silver Mercedes fleeing the scene with bullets until his clip was empty. His lips pulled back in a snarl as he disarmed the alarm on his own vehicle and hopped inside.

"This is madness," he muttered as he checked his arm.

He was still bleeding, but it was nothing life-threatening. The wound could wait. It would _have_ to wait. Just as he started the car, his cell phone protested noisily in his coat pocket. Nostrils flaring with irritation, he snatched it from its confines and answered, trying to remain as calm as possible. It was difficult, considering no one had his personal number aside from...

_Of course_.

"Yes."

"My dear, Sosuke. How are you?" the smooth bass traveled over the line.

"Perfectly well, thank you. Aside from the botched attempt on my life, that is."

Javier hummed. "Is that so?"

Aizen had lost all patience with the head games. "You'll have to do much better than that to gain success in securing my death, Javier. I'm not so easily done away with."

"Come, come now. You can't honestly believe that this was a _true_ attempt on your life? I was merely trying to get your attention. You've been negligent in answering my invitations."

A light beeped under the glove compartment, drawing Aizen's gaze. He didn't recall placing a device... With a deep sigh, he rubbed the space between his eyebrows.

"I take it you've spotted my gift," Javier stated, his accent thick and annoying as ever. Aizen couldn't believe he'd fallen – hook, line, and sinker. "I have the detonation remote here, so there's nothing you can do except meet me at my riverside office. I'll know if you deviate from your course, so I suggest you be intelligent about this. I'll see you in twenty minutes. Oh, and, Sosuke?" Javier paused as if he expected a response. Aizen wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Don't be late. I hate to be kept waiting."

The call ended and Aizen wanted to scream at the top of his lungs for being such a fool. How did he not see this coming? How did he not realize that such a blatant, open attack was nothing but a diversion? A trap. Resigned to his fate, he shifted the car into drive and headed for the riverside. If this was to be his last night on Earth, he would go down with a fight.

XOXOXO

The plane started its descent towards familiar ground, but Grimmjow couldn't find any joy in it. Not until he got his hands on Tousen. He balled them into fists and stared out of the window.

_I'm comin', Ichigo_.

Fingers landed on one of his fists, drawing his attention to his best friend. Shinji was seated beside him, face grim, and honey-brown eyes solemn.

"We'll get 'im back, Grimm. After everythin' you've been through, it can't end on a sour note."

Grimmjow grunted and turned back to the window. He wanted to believe Shinji, but his life hadn't exactly been a bed of roses. In fact, ending on a sour note seemed right up his alley. He couldn't understand Tousen's motives for taking Ichigo, and really he didn't give a shit. All he knew was _rage_. It followed him into sleep, was there when he awakened, there when he sat still for more than a minute. He wasn't even sure it was Tousen who had taken his lover, but his gut told him it was. The brown-skinned Blood was the only one he knew of who held such a deep-rooted grudge against him. Ginjou was dead, so who else could it be?

The jet landed with a few bumps before it coasted to a stop on a private airstrip. The pilot's voice came over the intercom, informing them that it was safe to remove their seat belts and luggage. A few minutes later, Grimmjow and Shinji were making their way over the tarmac with their bags in hand. Grimmjow was glad to be home, but he was disappointed that he was returning to more blood and vengeance, when really all he'd wanted to do was step down from being head of his family, show himself to Ichigo, and live happily ever after. Wishful thinking, he supposed.

He adjusted the strap to his bag as he stomped to the lobby of the main hanger. Shinji tried to keep up with him, but Grimmjow's legs were longer, and he was pissed. He swept into the lobby, startling the receptionist, but ignoring her as well. He had a one-track mind at the moment.

"Yo! Hold up!" Shinji called. Grimmjow paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder, impatience radiating off of him like a foul odor. "Where ya headed?"

Before he could answer, Shinji's phone chirped in his pocket. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, but waited for his friend to talk to whoever was on the other end.

"Yeah?" Shinji snapped. After a beat, Shinji's face went soft and concerned, and Grimmjow had an idea who was calling. "Who's number is this? What happened? You OK?" Grimmjow was beginning to grow uneasy from the look on his friend's face. Shinji listened for a few more seconds before he ended the call with, "Got it." He gave Grimmjow a serious stare until Grimmjow couldn't take it anymore.

"Well?"

"They found Ichigo."

**About a month ago...**

_**Shinji's eyes met his, and time seemed to stand still. He'd never seen his best friend look so serious. **_

"_**Shiro told me that Ichigo's gone missin'. They haven' heard from 'im in a week."**_

_**It felt like all the blood left his body in a rush until his fingers were numb and his body shook. He didn't know what to feel first. He was in shock, paralyzed with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time: fear. It was icy-cold, like a breath of Winter air. It gripped his entire body as he stared at Shinji, hoping the man would crack his signature grin and tell him it was all a joke. But Shinji held his gaze, golden-brown eyes uncertain. And then, a rage so deep-rooted and dangerous reached over and placed Grimmjow in a choke-hold. With him "dead," Ichigo was supposed to be safe. Tousen should have gone on with his business, happy as a pig in shit. Grimmjow had no doubt in his mind that Tousen was behind Ichigo's disappearance, and because of that, Tousen's life was officially forfeited. Grimmjow couldn't even think straight, but he didn't act out. This kind of anger made him quiet and emotionless. Deadly, even. He climbed to his feet and stalked over to the door, where he stopped with his hand on the knob and glanced at Shinji over his shoulder.**_

"_**C'mon. We're goin' the fuck home."**_

_Grimmjow didn't wait for Shinji to follow him before he left the room, but as soon as he entered the hallway, he realized something was dreadfully wrong. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, every sense on high alert. He didn't hear anything, didn't even see anything, but every one of his instincts told him that all was not right in the mansion. Shinji came to the door, saw the look on his face, and started to speak, but Grimmjow held up a hand as he continued to study his surroundings. Just as he was poised to let his guard down, two gunshots sounded on the lower floor. Frowning, he checked for the Beretta that he kept on him at all times before he turned to Shinji._

"_What the fuck is goin' on?" Shinji snapped._

_Grimmjow pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Luis."_

_That put Shinji in gear. The blond disappeared into their bedroom for all of ten seconds before he was back, loading rounds into a Glock .45. _

"_I knew we couldn't trust that asshole. What d'ya think he's got in mind?"_

"_If I had ta guess," Grimmjow started, voice full of sarcasm. "I'd say he wants ta kill us."_

"_Smart ass. Ya know what I meant."_

"_Yeah, well, I dunno that much yet, but he sure as hell ain't gonna kill me. I got shit ta do."_

_Shinji gave a quiet cackle as they started down the hallway, bodies close to the wall. "I thought ya might say somethin' like that."_

_They crept to the end of the hall, where Shinji peered around the corner. He jerked back and closed his eyes. _

"_Shit, Grimm. It's like ten guerillas down there."_

_Ten? Grimmjow grinned. He wanted to let the animal in him die peacefully, but someone was always there to provoke it into action. Ten was nothing._

"_Move," he muttered. Shinji frowned and didn't budge. "I know you heard me."_

"_I don't like that look in your eyes, Grimm. You get reckless when you look like that."_

"_Yeah, well, we need a little reckless right now. 'Sides, I already toldja I got somethin' ta do. I ain't gonna get myself killed."_

_Finally, his best friend slid aside, allowing Grimmjow to have his own peek around the corner. Sure enough, he counted ten men patrolling the foyer with rifles hanging around their necks. They and Luis stood in the way of Grimmjow getting back to America to find Ichigo. He wouldn't accept it. Hell, he wouldn't tolerate it. He peered around the corner again in time to see most of the men with their backs turned. That was all the cue he needed. He edged around the corner and began shooting as he stayed low and close to the wall. He had to get to the kitchen, where Barragan kept extra rounds and clips._

_He picked off three guerillas before the rest came rushing in his direction, rifle reports cracking like fireworks. He'd managed to surprise them, which was all Shinji needed to get the drop on them. Shinji rounded the corner firing as well. He downed three more as Grimmjow ducked behind the thick, marble pillars of the staircase. _

_Six down, four to go. The rifles seemed nonstop, but it didn't matter. The guerillas didn't believe in stealth. Grimmjow waited for a lull in the noise and stuck his hand around the pillar, taking out two more. He didn't waste bullets with unnecessary shots; Starrk had taught him to shoot, and to make it count. A chunk went flying from the pillar he took refuge behind, making him duck and breathe. That had been too close. _

_Shinji slid down beside him after firing and taking out another guerilla. The shots were more sporadic now, confirming that they only had one target left. Grimmjow wasn't afraid of one man with a gun, no matter how big it was. He waited a few beats to give the man the impression that everything was fine before he stood and fired off his last shot. It struck the man dead center of his forehead. Grimmjow grinned down at his best friend and held his hand out to help him up. Shinji shook his head._

"_I knew you were a bloodthirsty heathen."_

"_Shut up. You're no better when you get goin'."_

"_So...where's the old man? And where's the girl?"_

"_I know about as much as you do." Grimmjow paused and looked around at the carnage. "I don't like this. It feels like Luis is tryin' ta tell us somethin'."_

_Shinji snorted. "Ya think?"_

_Grimmjow ignored him as he made his way to the kitchen. All the lights were off, and the patio doors were shattered. He stepped outside, his boots crunching over the glass. It was too quiet. Nothing seemed to move or breathe...until Grimmjow heard labored panting and muttered curses in Spanish._

"_Shit," Grimmjow growled as he hurried over to the sounds. _

_Barragan was seated on the ground, his back against the wall, and his hand pressed to his side. His temple was bleeding, and there was blood between his fingers. Grimmjow knelt down beside the older man, his heart racing and stomach clenching. He didn't know the old man that well, but it didn't mean he wanted to see him die, either. _

"_Barragan, what happened?"_

_Barragan's eyes opened and focused on Grimmjow's face. "Boy?"_

"_Yeah, it's me, old man. Was it Luis?"_

"_That puto! He couldn't face me like a man. He crept into my house and shot me. Took my granddaughter." Barragan gasped and paused. "You have to get her back. She has nothing to do with this."_

"_Yeah, yeah, don' worry 'bout it. Shinji!" Grimmjow called._

_Shinji's footsteps made it through the glass as well before the blond was beside Grimmjow, his face a mask of anger. _

"_You're gonna be fine, old man. We ain't gonna let ya die."_

_Barragan's smile was slow, but warm. "Just get Hiyori. I'll thank you later. And bring me a phone. I need to make a call."_

_Grimmjow chuckled. Barragan reminded him of an older Starrk. He stayed behind while Shinji fetched the house phone. The look on Barragan's face told Grimmjow everything he needed to know. Luis had planned for this. He'd probably even figured that Barragan would send some of his men after him, so he'd ambushed him while they were gone. _

_Shinji came back with the phone, and Grimmjow stood. He gave Barragan a weighty gaze._

"_We'll get her back. You just sit tight. An' old man?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Do me a favor and don't die."_

_Grimmjow left the patio to the sound of Barragan's laughter. This was just one more thing he didn't want to deal with, but he couldn't let Hiyori become a victim to Luis's jealousy and rebellion. _

_**XxxxxxxX**_

"_How'd you know where he'd be?" Shinji asked as he glared out of the truck window. _

_Tire tracks had led them to the base, and it made sense to Grimmjow. Luis felt like he should be the one in power. All he had to do was tell Javier's men that Barragan had come to his senses and given him the reins, and they would listen to him without question. Barragan wouldn't be around to oppose him, so why not? And the asshole was arrogant enough to perch himself at base like some kind of misguided King. _

"_He thinks he's a god, and this is the only temple around here."_

_Shinji nodded as Grimmjow parked a little over two hundred yards away from the compound. The rest of the distance they would cover on foot. _

"_So, whatta we do once we're in? Ya know Javier's men are gonna try an' get rid of us, thinking Luis really is in charge."_

"_Yeah, I know that. That's why we go in the back way."_

"_The back way?"_

_Grimmjow nodded and started jogging towards the building. Barragan had told him about a secret escape route in case of emergency. One that no one knew about aside from the old man and Javier. It led right into the main office, where Barragan usually spent most of his time when he wasn't needed on the grounds. _

_They made it to the building after dodging the guerillas securing the area. The guerillas didn't know about the escape route, so there was no one guarding the door. It didn't even look like a door. It was more like a manhole, hidden beneath powdery dirt. Grimmjow kicked away the dust and lifted the latch, careful not to make any noise that would draw attention their way. Shinji frowned._

"_Where the heck did this come from?" _

_Grimmjow explained it to his friend as they lowered themselves into the hole. Once inside, they were faced with a long, stone tunnel. There were lights placed at every ten feet, giving them a clear path through the winding walkway. It was musty and moist, but overall not so bad. They sprinted towards the metal door at the end of the tunnel. When they reached it, Grimmjow turned to Shinji and stopped him._

"_When we get inside, go find Hiyori. I'll take care of Luis. He won't be expectin' us ta show up in the office, so you'll have a chance ta slip through his fingers."_

"_Grimm-"_

"_Jus' do it, Shin! We ain't really got time ta argue about this!"_

_Shinji shook his head, grabbed the long handle of the door and turned it. Before he opened it, he gave Grimmjow a heavy glare. "If you don't bring yer ass back intact, I'll never forgive ya."_

_He didn't wait for a response; he swung open the door and disappeared behind it. Grimmjow smirked. Shinji was funny when he went all concerned best friend, but Grimmjow couldn't say that he didn't appreciate the gesture. He followed the blond's quiet footsteps, amazed when he realized that there was another passage that led away from the main office. Shinji glanced at him, pointed at the corridor and disappeared once more. Grimmjow didn't even get a chance to protest, but figured Shinji had made the right decision. It would mean more of an advantage for the both of them. _

_When Grimmjow opened the metal door, all the while praying that it wouldn't creak and give away his position, an ancient tapestry concealed his entrance. It was made of dark fabric, heavy, and it smelled like years of dust. Gun in hand, he used the weapon to push aside a portion of the tapestry. Luis stood staring at an elaborate painting of a landscape where a window should have been, a cigar in hand. As soon as Grimmjow eased from behind the tapestry, the dark-haired man puffed on the cigar and gave a noisy exhale. _

"_Took you long enough, Seńor."_

_Although he was surprised, Grimmjow didn't show it. In fact, he was more amused than anything. He grinned as Luis turned to face him, nearly black eyes gazing at him, cold and condescending. _

"_Did you think I wouldn't expect you to show your ugly mug after what I did to Barragan?"_

_Grimmjow's shrug was casual as his grin widened. "So? Maybe ya got lucky and found some brains. Don't change the fact that yer gonna die."_

_Luis cackled as he edged over to the large desk in front of him. He set down his cigar and went back to eyeing Grimmjow like he was appraising a diamond. A few moments crept by before Luis finally waved a hand at one of the chairs in front of the desk._

"_Come, take a seat, Seńor. I want to talk business with you."_

"_Oh, _now_ ya wanna talk? Well, I don't really feel chatty right now...Seńor."_

_Luis talked over him as if Grimmjow hadn't said a word. "I can offer you ten million dollars, cash, if you agree to leave Colombia tonight. Turn a blind eye to this, no?"_

"_I'm already in an agreement with your boss. So, no, I don't think so."_

_Grimmjow was actually insulted that Luis thought he could buy him. He glared into the man's brooding eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a threat in there somewhere. Luis didn't strike him as one with integrity, let alone business-wise. _

"_So hasty," Luis crooned as he slid into the oversized leather chair behind the desk. He crossed his left leg over his right knee and tilted his head as he regarded Grimmjow with amusement. Grimmjow's hackles raised, his instincts protesting with wild abandon. He didn't like the way Luis seemed to feel so comfortable, so smug. "It's a good offer. Barragan is out of the way, Javier is all the way in America, and I'm certain I can deal with his son. You would be wise to join the winning side, my friend."_

_Grimmjow sucked his teeth. "That's bullshit. Yer nothin' but a cockroach ta Javier. What the hell makes you think _yer_ the winning side?"_

_Luis's eyes flashed with indignant anger for a brief second before his cool expression returned, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I see I have your attention."_

"_Not really. I'm jus' curious, ya know? Javier's a hammer, an' yer not even a nail. Yer irrelevant."_

_That got Luis good and riled up. His jaw twitched, and his nostrils flared. "And what do you think that makes you? Do you think you're important because an invisible man sent you to do his dirty work? Does this make you a god?"_

_Grimmjow shook his head. "_You_ made me a god, Luis. I only came ta do a job; you made it bigger than it was. 'Sides, it ain't like I'm here ta stay. You shoved yer head up yer ass 'til ya couldn't see the forest for the trees. Ain't my fault." He paused and watched Luis puff up with rage. He felt sorry for the man. Luis wanted power so badly, he was willing to screw himself in the process to get it. "This ain't my home, an' I got more important issues ta take care of. Yer a little fish in a big ass ocean, Luis."_

"_Javier should have given the job to _me_! Not some upstart of an outsider!"_

"_Well, if ya had a problem with the way shit was goin' down 'round here, ya shoulda taken it up with Javier! I didn't ask fer this!"_

_Luis shot out of his seat, and Grimmjow raised his gun, the nose aimed at Luis's head. They stared at one another for what felt like forever, neither man moving an inch. Grimmjow felt heat spiraling through his veins in the form of adrenaline. That whole argument was pointless in his opinion. Luis was behaving like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, and digging his own damned grave at the same time. It was obvious that he thought he'd left Barragan for dead, which was just another fatal mistake. When Javier found out about this incident, Luis would never be seen or heard from again. That silver-haired guy that worked for Javier looked like he enjoyed making holes and throwing bodies into them._

_Luis's hand started inching around to the small of his back, but Grimmjow pulled the trigger of his Beretta. Luis froze, dark eyes narrowing into slits._

"_I missed on purpose."_

_Luis sneered, but his hand was still on the move. Grimmjow suddenly realized that he'd had one goal in mind when he'd entered the building: kill this punk. He bit his bottom lip, took two steps forward and was a breath away from emptying his clip into Luis's arrogant melon when the door to the office swung open and banged against the opposite wall. Grimmjow was tempted to look, but he wasn't dumb enough to turn his attention away from Luis._

"_I'll take it from here," Barragan's gravelly voice filled the room. "Javier wants him alive."_

_The look that ran across Luis's face was priceless. The man turned pale and collapsed into the desk chair, baffled completely. Grimmjow still didn't trust him, though. His steps were slow and careful as he made his way over to the dark-haired man. He relieved Luis of the gun at the small of his back and at his ankle. Once that was done, he finally turned to the older man at the door. Shinji was beside Barragan, Hiyori behind him, but both men had pistols trained on the traitor sitting behind the desk._

"_Guess I picked the winning side after all, huh, Seńor?" Grimmjow drawled._

_**XxxxxxX**_

_**Three Weeks Later**_

"_I want to thank you, Grimmjow. I know you have more important matters to settle back in the states, so I do appreciate that you stayed here a little longer to get things rolling again."_

"_Nah, don' worry 'bout it, Old Man."_

"_It's too bad ya gotta go, Grimmjow. I'm almost legal and-"_

"_Jesus Christ, kid, get a life!"_

"_Shut up, you jerk! Nobody was talkin' to you!"_

_Grimmjow watched the exchange between Shinji and Hiyori and chuckled. Things were definitely back to normal in Colombia, which was why Grimmjow refused to stay even an hour longer. Javier had given him the go-ahead; plus, he was worried sick about Ichigo. Shiro and Shinji were once again on good terms, so Shinji was kept abreast of the Ichigo search. So far, no dice. And though he was worried about his younger lover, Grimmjow was more livid about the situation. He just wanted to wrap his hands around Tousen's (or whoever the culprit was) neck and squeeze until there was nothing left. _

"_My brother told me about the situation with your lover. I'm not one for romance, but I do know a little something about vengeance. Let the anger you feel now fuel your drive to find the one who had the balls to go against you – dead or otherwise."_

_Grimmjow gave the older man a measured stare. He'd heard what Barragan had said, but his mind was still turning, still trying to figure out the next move once he and Shinji touched down in the states. Finally, he allowed himself a respite._

"_They don't call me the Grim Reaper for nothin', Old Man."_

_Barragan's expression said that he wanted to smile with amusement, but after studying Grimmjow's serious countenance further, he'd decided to go with solemnity. The gray head nodded as Barragan puffed on a cigar. His eyes turned to the private jet before resting on Grimmjow's again._

"_I understand. Good luck with everything."_

_Grimmjow nodded in return and hiked his bag higher on his shoulder as he faced his best friend. Shinji was still bickering with Hiyori when Grimmjow grabbed the man's collar and pulled him away from the girl._

"_OK, playtime's over, kids. Tell each other goodbye," Grimmjow rumbled._

"_Goddamn!" Shinji snapped, voice exasperated. "Never met someone got on my nerves that fuckin' bad!"_

"_She's a child," Grimmjow tried to soothe, but Hiyori quickly interceded._

"_I am _not_! I told you, I'm almost legal!"_

_Barragan put his arm around the girl's shoulders, and the effect was like shutting off a TV. Hiyori's eyes were still sullen and spitting visual fire at Shinji, but she had the good sense to remain quiet. _

"_If you ever decide to come back to Colombia, look me up. I'd be happy to let you stay at the mansion."_

"_Sure, Gramps," Shinji stated before he flipped Hiyori the bird and boarded the aircraft. _

_Grimmjow followed behind the blond, but paused at the top of the stairs of the plane. He turned to Barragan with a small, secret smile._

"_I might just take you up on that. See ya 'round, Old Man."_

**XxxxxxX**

**Present**

"They found Ichigo."

It felt like his heart was in his throat. His mind didn't know what to do or say first, but his body propelled him out of the lobby doors. Before he realized it, he was running towards the parking lot, where Javier's men had both of their cars waiting for them.

"Grimm, wait! Ya don' even know where he is yet!"

He slowed down just enough to let Shinji catch up to him before he stalked to the driver's side door of his Acura and yanked it open.

"Well, where the fuck is he? I don't got time ta sit here and play word tag, Shin!"

He was in a state of anxiety, greater than the time he'd faced Tousen and his goons at Di Roy's funeral. He had to know that Ichigo was OK. And he had to see for himself. He wouldn't be satisfied until he did.

"Jesus Christ. He's at Memorial Hospital."

Grimmjow's blood ran cold. "Is he...?" he stopped. He couldn't bring himself to say the word, his throat closing up with anger and remorse at the mere thought. "Shin, tell me he ain't..."

"No," Shinji breathed, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. "He's not dead, but...the way Shiro sounded on the phone...it can't be good."

Grimmjow took a moment to calm himself. OK, he wasn't dead, but...what the hell had happened? He wanted to rush over to the hospital right away, but after giving it some thought, he figured that wouldn't be such a bright idea. First of all, he was sure that Ichigo's family and friends were there. Second, he wanted to reveal himself to Ichigo alone because he definitely wanted all of the younger man's attention. And third, he wasn't really in the right frame of mind at the moment to face Ichigo. He didn't know what had happened to him. Hell, he was already ticked off; seeing the proof of Ichigo's misfortune and knowing it was directly related to him would send him over the edge.

It was best that he go to Javier before he barged into Ichigo's hospital room. His entire spirit didn't agree with him, though. He needed to be _there_.

"I gotta see Javier. I don't want anyone ta know I'm around yet, an' I know he can get me the shit I need."

"Alright. We'll go there first, then."

**XxxxxxxX**

"Welcome home, boys," Javier said, his voice a low, accented hum.

The Man was seated at his kitchen table, Retsu moving around the stove and island, preparing what appeared to Grimmjow to be a feast worthy of the Game of Thrones. It smelled good, that was for sure.

"Take a seat," Javier continued as he pointed at the chairs opposite the table from him. "Will you stay for dinner? I know Retsu would appreciate more mouths to praise her cooking."

"They deserve a good meal after being cooped up on that plane for so many hours," Retsu interjected as she set a pan of stewed chicken on the kitchen island. "And I know that damned Barragan didn't bother to make sure you were properly fed."

Shinji shook his head. "Nah, his granddaughter took pretty good care of us with the food."

Grimmjow stared at his friend in shock. Had he actually complimented his arch nemesis? Shinji noticed the look of astonishment and scowled.

"What? It's true, ain't it?"

"I'll be damned."

"I take it your friend was given a run for his money by our precious little Hiyori. She can be quite the handful," Javier chuckled. He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "So, now that you're here, do you still plan to find the man who tried to kill you?"

"Absolutely," Grimmjow immediately answered. "But I need your help with a few things."

"Anything, _amigo_. What's mine is yours."

Grimmjow was surprised at the generosity, but his mind was on one track. He wouldn't be able to rest until he put Tousen and whoever else was with him in a box, six feet under. Hell, maybe even deeper. Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him, lighting his face with a rare smile.

"I got a plan."

**XxxxxxX**

The room was quiet except for the beeping of a machine that had tubes running to the unconscious, orange-haired man lying in bed. It was after midnight, but Grimmjow had connections in the hospital that allowed him to sneak past security and into the empty room. He couldn't breathe, but everything was crystal clear. Sounds, smell, sight: it all came in with a sharp edge. His heart was breaking as he stood over Ichigo's prone body.

According to Shiro, a friend of his had found Ichigo in an abandoned apartment, overdosed on heroin. Grimmjow started to pull the chair beside the bed closer, but decided against it, opting to sit right next to his lover.

He was so thin – like a skeleton. His face was gaunt, dark circles ringed his eyes, his hair was filthy and slick with sweat, and his lips were so dry, it looked painful. Grimmjow's hands balled into fists as he tried to calm the wrath banging around inside of him. Who the fuck had done this? He _knew_ Ichigo. Ichigo wouldn't resort to anything more intense than marijuana, no matter how stressed he was. He wasn't weak, and Grimmjow couldn't imagine him being that desperate. Someone had done this to him.

His hand moved forward on its own, sliding over the orange hair clinging to the cool forehead. Track marks littered the younger man's arms, red and angry. Grimmjow lowered the hood of his hoodie and leaned in until his own forehead touched Ichigo's. He stared into his lover's face until it was clear that Ichigo wasn't about to open the brown eyes Grimmjow missed so damned much. For a long while he stayed that way, breathing in time with the rising and falling of Ichigo's chest. He'd never been so pissed in his life, but he was also hurt because he felt utter helplessness overtaking him. He could kill the person who'd done this a million times over, but it wouldn't get Ichigo to open his eyes. It wouldn't get Ichigo to smile at him, or curse him out for not showing himself sooner. It wouldn't change the fact that Ichigo had been turned into one of the things Grimmjow hated the most.

"I swear to God, Ichigo, I'm gonna kill whoever did this to you." He stopped, a lump forming in his throat. His eyes stung, so he closed them and licked his lips, trying to regain his composure. "When ya wake up, it's gonna hurt like hell. Yer prob'ly gonna wanna die, but yer stronger than that. Ya got yer family, ya got yer friends...an' ya got me. I'm home, an' I ain't goin' nowhere this time around. Ya hear me? I'll be damned if I leave you again. ...I love you."

He slowly pulled back and opened his eyes, disappointed that Ichigo's were still glued shut. Shaking his head, he leaned in again and kissed Ichigo's chapped lips, then his clammy cheek. He kissed the man's nose, eyelids and forehead before his emotions overwhelmed him and made him abruptly stand. He trudged over to the door, not really wanting to leave, but he'd promised his connect that he wouldn't stay long. His hand was on the knob when he glanced over his shoulder. Ichigo was still the same: body still as a corpse. Grimmjow threw his hood over his head and left the room, steps determined and attitude on a thousand.

He had a little chaos to create.

_Now, I'm not afraid to do the Lord's work,  
>You say vengeance is His, but I'm a do it first,<br>I'm gonna handle my business in the name of the law, aah, ohh,  
><em>

_Now if he made you cry, oh, I gotta know,  
>If he's not ready to die, he best prepare for it,<br>My judgment's divine, I'll tell you who you can call,  
>You can call...<em>

_You better call the police, call the coroner,_  
><em>Call up your priest, have them warn ya,<em>  
><em>Won't be no peace when I find that fool,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, yeah,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, my baby,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, uh,<em>  
><em>Gotta find that fool, oh,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you?<em>

_Now I don't take pleasure in a man's pain,_  
><em>But my wrath will come down like the cold rain,<em>  
><em>And there won't be no shelter, no place you can go,<em>  
><em>Hey, Heeeey,<em>  
><em>It's time to put your hands up, time for surrender,<em>  
><em>I'm a vigilante, my love's defender,<em>  
><em>You're a wanted man, and everybody knows,<em>

_You better call the police, call the coroner,_  
><em>Call up your priest, have them warn ya,<em>  
><em>Won't be no peace when I find that fool,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, hey,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, my baby,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you, ahhhh,<em>  
><em>Gotta find that fool, hey-ah,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you?<em>

_Now he'll keep on running, but I'm closing in,_  
><em>I'll hunt him down until the bitter end,<em>  
><em>If you see me coming then who you gonna call?<em>  
><em>Yeee-aaahhh,<em>

_You better call the police, call the coroner,_  
><em>Call up your priest, have them warn ya,<em>  
><em>Won't be no peace when I find that fool, hey, hey, heey-ah,<em>

_You better call the doctor, call the lawyer,_  
><em>I chase 'em all the way to California,<em>  
><em>Give 'em hell ya trying to find that fool,<em>  
><em>Who did that to you?<em>

_-John Legend- _

**Once again, I do hope you enjoyed this! I'll get to the next story as soon as possible, entitled, "Dirtiest Of Em All." Thank you for reading! **


End file.
